How Times Change
by xRiddleMeThisx
Summary: Hermione had always learned that the past cannot be changed... or can it? Strange events occur when she and Harry are thrown back into the 1940's, and soon she realizes that a seventeen year old Tom Riddle is the least of her problems... HGTR
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **I'll make this short here… if you want to read more about my story, visit my author's page. I just want to say that, as this takes place after the war, it does contain huge Deathly Hallows spoilers. Also, I've changed some things around (the title, for instance, some of the first chapter, and I've also added a prologue). Once again, you can hear more about this on my author's page.

**Disclaimer:** This disclaimer goes for the WHOLE story, which means it applies to every single chapter. (Yeah, yeah, I'm too lazy to actually keep writing it out). As I'm saying this only once, you better listen well: I am NOT JK Rowling. I don't own anything related to Harry Potter in any way, and I'm not trying to take credit for her work at all. JKR owns everything, and this is only written for amusement in my spare time.

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Prologue

She stood at the other end of the hall, pacing, and looking about absentmindedly. Occasionally she would take her wand and, perhaps out of boredom, produce a stream of bubbles from its end. After watching them all drift off into the darkness, she would replace her wand and then continue walking back and forth.

It disgusted him.

Tom Riddle stood firmly against his end of the corridor, keeping watch – and only keeping watch – just as he was told. _He_ surely wasn't conjuring _bubbles_ for the fun of it. If some intruder happened to wander down his end of the floor, he wouldn't be caught off guard; he would be ready. Unlike someone he knew.

He had never met a more annoying person in his entire life. Sure, he disliked most people – well, all people, really – but she was beyond compare. He supposed she was even more infuriating than the saint-like Dumbledore, who he had abhorred for nearly seven years now. And that was really saying something.

There was just something about her that really got to him. Was it her bossy, sort of know-it-all voice? The way the professors seemed to fawn all over her? The way she gave him that all-knowing stare, as if she knew exactly what he was planning? Or was it the fact that no one – not a single person – seemed to seriously question the way she just randomly appeared at Hogwarts a few weeks back? Everything about her, right down to her ugly bushy-brown hair, annoyed the hell out of him. She got under his skin, and he hated it.

He wasn't sure if she knew it or not. Although she wasn't a complete idiot, (though this, Tom told himself repeatedly, was not a compliment), she often seemed aloof. From what he could see, she and her good-for-nothing brother kept to themselves. They were always wrapped up in their own insignificant business, talking or planning or doing whatever it is Gryffindors do. Whenever they came in close contact, though, she seemed too intent on hating him to actually notice that he detested her with more enthusiasm than he normally did others.

She caught him staring at her and stopped her bubbles. They were too far away to lock eyes, but Tom could tell she was staring right back, perhaps attempting to pry his gaze from hers. Tom smirked inwardly; he was not one to lose a battle of the wills. He picked a point on her face that he could actually see – that hideous, upturned nose of hers, perhaps, (yes, that was certainly large enough to see from where he was standing) – and stared impassively, as though his life depended on it.

Together, they continued staring, for upwards of a minute… two minutes…. Tom would not allow himself to turn away. He could picture her struggling, her eyes watering…. She wanted to blink, he knew it.

Three minutes had gone by, and Tom was still at ease. He was quite enjoying this, actually. She was starting to fidget… it would happen any minute now….

_Yes!_

She blinked and turned away. Tom's insides soared in triumph. Perhaps he was a bit more excited about this small victory than the situation warranted, but he didn't particularly care; that would show _her_ to challenge Tom Riddle. She should have known that his strength, his patience, and his determination matched that of none other.

He continued staring, just to get his point across. After a moment or so she glanced back over her shoulder, and then quickly looked away again. _Yes, that's right_, he thought, _you should feel humiliation for your actions._

When, at last, she finally decided to get back to her watch, Tom turned away. He tried to focus back on his end of the floor, but was now having difficulties. For some reason, he couldn't stop thinking of that blasted girl….

Why was she here? The thought was slowly consuming him. Somehow her story just… didn't make sense. Students didn't go on the run, and then transfer to a completely different school. No, there was something she wasn't letting on about, and Tom desperately wanted to know what it was.

Normally he wouldn't care about such trivial nonsense. After all, he had more important business to attend to. His time at Hogwarts was almost over, and he had to finalize his plans for when he left for good. But somehow he felt that this girl knew something about him. Perhaps it was the way she talked to him, always in that same patronizing tone, though laced with a mixture of hatred and even… was it pity? He couldn't tell. Whatever it was, though, she made him nervous, and he had a feeling she would get in his way.

Tom would not let this happen. He had worked too long and hard to get where he was now, and Merlin help him if she ruined it all. For the past few years he had concentrated all his efforts on making connections with the right people, putting on a certain air for those he didn't trust, and studying, studying harder than anyone had ever guessed…. Everything was finally coming together, and if it all worked, he would be on his way to becoming the most powerful wizard in Europe. But for this to take place, the next few months must go exactly according to plan, or everything he worked for might all have been for naught. And this plan definitely did not include a meddlesome new girl and her irritating brother.

Standing there in the darkened corridor, Tom made up his mind. He swore to himself that he would find out as much as possible about these two strangers. He would discover why they were here, what they were up to, and most importantly, why they seemed to know him. Once he did, he would make sure they were stopped and, (this thought gave him great pleasure), disposed of entirely.

If he didn't, he would surely go mad.


	2. The Favor

The Favor

For the first time all summer, the Burrow was quiet. Until now the house had been buzzing with the aftermath of the war, and it had been filled to the brim with Order members popping in and out to relay messages of reconstruction. In fact, it had been so busy that its occupants had had barely any time to think, to celebrate the downfall of the Dark Lord, or even to grieve their numerous losses.

Today, though, no one had come bearing news, and not one of the Weasleys had been summoned to the Ministry. It was a hot, lazy day, and under normal circumstances, the heat would have been the cause of much whining and complaining. However, no one was bothered much, partly because the weather was the last thing on their minds, and partly because this meant the Dementors had finally cleared the area.

Hermione Granger took note of this as she sat sprawled in the overgrown lawn of the garden. Although she was not one for wasting time, she couldn't help but relish the few moments of peace she had to herself. She too had been busy all summer; as she, Ron and Harry had all been instrumental to Voldemort's defeat last May, their help had been requested multiple times by various sources.

The trio had been needed most often by the Order of the Phoenix, who was currently working with a group of Aurors to help regain control of the Ministry of Magic. Although many Death Eaters had been present and captured at the Battle of Hogwarts, there were still a handful scattered throughout the Ministry, and the Order was attempting to round them up. Besides Death Eaters, there was also a large group of people who had taken advantage of the war and used it to enforce their own perverse policies. With the help of the Order, the Ministry had finally cracked down on these witches and wizards and was currently attempting to return to its pre-war state. Hermione could vividly remember the satisfaction she felt, two weeks ago, when she heard that Dolores Umbridge had been taken into custody and the Muggle-Born Registration Commission had been dismantled. The Burrow experienced a rather pleasant celebration that night.

Though Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not the ones to personally set things right again, their opinions had been sought and they had also been used to answer many questions. Soon after the Battle of Hogwarts, they had explained most of what had actually happened between Harry and Voldemort. Harry, at least, revealed the existence of the Horcruxes, and how Voldemort was finally able to die. Using the information that they gave, the Order had been able to identify who had worked, both willingly and unwillingly, under the Dark Lord's regime.

It wasn't terribly difficult work – nothing compared to searching for and destroying horcruxes – but it was time consuming. They _did_ have to help rebuild a whole wizarding community, after all….

Hermione's thoughts drifted, and she turned her attention on a garden gnome that was rummaging through some garbage. Somewhere in the distance, a door opened and slammed shut. Footsteps crunched through the dry grass, and she heard her name.

"Hey, Hermione."

It was Harry and Ron. Her heart swelled at the sight of them, her two best friends. They had made it through alive, all of them, together. She felt so proud to have fought along side them, even though it had been tough at times. But the worst was over and no matter what had happened, everything was bound to get much better.

They crouched down beside her and gazed in the direction of the gnome, too. After a few moments, Ron spoke. "Dinner's almost ready," he said. "Mum said Hagrid's going to be coming."

Hermione nodded. "It'll be good to see him again."

"Yeah, maybe he'll take Mum's mind off of…." They all looked at each other. Hermione knew they were all thinking the same thing: although the end of the war had been an immense relief, it was truly bittersweet. Each of their loses had been a suffocating blow; first Moody, then Lupin, Tonks, and Fred…. It was especially hard on Mrs. Weasley, who was still in despair over her son's loss. The rest of the Weasleys were also devastated; however, her grief could only be matched by that of George.

"I said we'd help her set up," Harry said, breaking the silence.

"Good idea."

They all got up and brushed themselves off. Ron extended a hand to Hermione, which she took gratefully, and together they walked back into the house. There they found Mrs. Weasley standing in the crowded kitchen, waving her wand over a pot on the stove.

"Oh there you three are," she said, a little breathlessly. "I wondered where you had gone off to. Would you mind setting up the table outside? You know how Hagrid is…." She looked at them a bit helplessly, and Hermione's insides ached with pity. Mrs. Weasley looked as though she hadn't slept in weeks; her eyes were red and sagging, the lines on her face were more pronounced than ever, and her normally vibrant hair had been streaked with gray.

"No problem, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said kindly.

"When is Hagrid coming?" asked Ron.

"He should be here any minute," Mrs. Weasley said. "That's why I need you all to be quick with setting things up. Dinner will be rea – ahhh!"

Suddenly, a sort of explosion took place; a potato had evidently been overcooked and shot out of the stove, ricocheted off the wall, and landed spectacularly on the ground, splattering everyone standing in the near vicinity.

Mrs. Weasley cursed. "Oh, oh no," she cried, on the verge of tears. "This is just what I needed…." She bent down to clean the mess just as Ginny came skidding into the room, clearly having just run through the house towards the source of the commotion.

"What happened?" she asked, clutching her side. Her eyes widened as she looked around the room and saw everyone covered in a mushy gray mess.

"It's okay, Ginny," Harry said, gently taking Mrs. Weasley's arm and pulling her back up. "Just an exploding potato. Here, Mrs. Weasley, let me get that for you." He took out his wand and said, _"Scourgify." _ Ron and Ginny took out their wands also, and together they continued cleaning the floor and walls. Meanwhile, Hermione went to retrieve the remaining potatoes before they ended up elsewhere in the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley looked extremely gratified. "Thank you so much," she said, trying to compose herself. "You four are such a big help, I don't know what –"

"Don't worry about it, Mum," Ginny said, picking a piece of potato out of Harry's hair.

Hermione smiled and grabbed a handful of silverware. "Really, Mrs. Weasley, we don't mind helping out," she said. "It's no big deal."

Mrs. Weasley's lip trembled and she rushed forward, bringing Hermione and Ginny into a fierce hug. Their two heads banged together and Ginny yelled out.

"Geeze, Mum! Gerroff me! Don't you have to finish dinner or something?"

"Oh, that's right; Hagrid's coming," Mrs. Weasley said, releasing the girls from her death-grip. She looked at them all fondly before turning back to the stove and saying, "don't forget about the table now."

As they made their way outside, Hermione thought she heard a rather large sniff coming from back inside the house. No one said anything about Mrs. Weasley's behavior, as this was quite the norm nowadays. Instead, they began to talk about Hagrid, and also about Hogwarts, which they haven't visited since immediately after the battle.

"I wonder how the Hogwarts cleanup is going," Ron said, guiding the table with his wand. "It looked awful the last time we were there."

"I'm sure it's fine," Hermione replied. She looked at a chair thoughtfully, then pointed her wand at it. "_Engorio_," she said, and it swelled to three times its normal size. "Do you think that'll be strong enough for Hagrid? I don't know if I should use some extra reinforcing charms or not…."

"It's probably okay," Harry said. He looked at Ron. "You know, you're right," he said. "There were some walls missing and a whole floor caved in… how would they possibly repair all of that?"

No one answered. Hermione began to lay the table when Harry pointed towards the distance and said, "look, Hagrid's here!"

Sure enough, Hagrid was slowly coming into view just over the hedge. They all dropped their things and ran up to meet him. "Hey, you lot," he said, stepping over some bushes. "How've yeh been?"

"We're okay," Harry said. "But never mind us. How are you? How is it at Hogwarts?"

Hagrid chuckled. "Can' wait fer nothin'," he said. He studied the four teenagers, who were all staring at him expectantly. "It's fine – fine! Cleanup's goin' well, we'll have everythin' up an' runnin' for the students when they come in September. Don' know what yer all expectin' ter hear."

"I dunno," Harry said, shrugging. "We've heard a lot about things going on in the Ministry, but nothing about Hogwarts. And seeing as we kind of destroyed half the school, we thought we'd like to hear how everything was going."

"I told yeh, everything's goin' ter be fine," Hagrid said. He looked back up at the house. "How're yer parents, Ron, Ginny?" he asked.

There was an awkward pause. "They've been better," Ron finally said.

"Ah, well, yeh – yeh know it'll take some time. It always does. But they'll be okay, in the end."

No one said anything for a while. At times like these, Hermione felt awful; it was as if she was intruding on a family's grief. Yes, she was also devastated about what had happened, but sometimes she felt she had no right to act as though her sorrow was as deep as the Weasley's. She, after all, still had her whole family. Although her parents were still in Australia, she was planning to bring them back as soon as she deemed it safe enough. But the Weasley's had lost a family member…. Hermione looked at Harry, and could tell he felt the same way, that he shouldn't be here. But Harry had no place to go either.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Weasley came back out of the house, followed by Mr. Weasley and George. "Hello, Hagrid," she said, placing a large platter on the table. "It's good to – oh look!" They heard a faint _pop_, and Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared just beyond the Burrow's property. He walked into the yard and smiled when he saw everyone standing there.

"Hi everyone," he said, extending a large, calloused hand to Harry. "Sorry to just drop in like this, but I needed a quick word with these three." He gestured to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Will you be staying to eat?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "There's plenty to go around."

He shook his head. "Not today, Molly; I only have a few minutes here, and then I have to get back to the Ministry."

Mrs. Weasley looked crestfallen.

"I'm sorry; some other time." He beckoned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and they all walked towards the edge of the garden. Hermione briefly wondered why he wanted to talk to them alone. She stole a glance at Ron and saw he looked confused as well.

"I'm not trying to be secretive," Kingsley told them, as soon as they were out of earshot of the others, "I just wanted to ask you a favor without anyone interfering."

"What is it? Will my parents not approve?" asked Ron, somewhat hopefully.

"Not necessarily," Kingsley said. "It's actually about the trial tomorrow, for the captured Death Eaters."

They all nodded; they had read about this in the _Daily Prophet_.

"Originally, they were all just going to be identified; we planned to simply confirm that they had worked for Voldemort, and then take them back into custody." He paused. "But apparently, the Wizengamot is ordering that we follow a standard procedure: hold a full trial, use witnesses…."

"And lemme guess, you need us to testify as witnesses, is that right?" Ron interrupted.

Kingsley looked at them carefully. "Well, yes," he said. "It would really be helpful, seeing as you had already offered your services to the Order and the Ministry…."

"And did away with Voldemort?" Harry added.

They all laughed.

"So will you come? I'm sorry it's such short notice; I only found out today."

"Of course," Harry said. "I can't wait to see them all locked up – I'll be glad to help."

"Me too," Ron said, while Hermione nodded.

Kingsley clapped Harry on the back. "Thanks so much," he said. "You three are great. And you know," he added, "if you need any help deciding what to do with yourselves once everything has calmed down, I'll be glad to lend you a hand. Have you thought about this at all?"

Hermione's stomach gave a jolt. The thought had crossed her mind occasionally, and she had since come to the unwelcome conclusion that she had no plan for her future whatsoever. She voiced her thoughts.

"Well we didn't get a chance to take our NEWTs, and I know they are instrumental in determining one's career path…. I don't know what we can do without them, maybe we can arrange something with Hogwarts…."

Harry and Ron rolled their eyes.

"Hermione, exam scores don't matter anymore," Kingsley said. "We need experienced witches and wizards, and I can't think of any three better than you. The Ministry can hire you – I'm sure you would all make wonderful Aurors if you want."

Ron looked beside himself in excitement. Hermione, meanwhile, was skeptical.

"Really? Even though we're technically not qualified?"

"Really." Kingsley looked her right in the eyes. "You are plenty qualified in my books. You'd all be a great addition to the department – we could use some fresh ideas, especially if we're trying to rebuild the Ministry."

"He has a point, Hermione," Harry said, grinning. He also looked elated. "Well I'm up for it."

Kingsley stared at a point over their shoulders. The sky was darkening now, and the garden was becoming speckled with flashes of lightning bugs. After a moment, he continued.

"Maybe we can get you all set up tomorrow after the hearing," he said. "Can you bring Arthur with you? Just in case I'm not around; he can bring you up to the Auror Department. Plus, I think we'd all feel safer if you were escorted by an Order member."

"That's a good idea," Hermione said.

Kingsley looked pleased. "Great. Well I should be leaving now. The hearing is at ten o'clock down in Courtroom Ten. Do you know where that is?"

"Yes," Harry said, grimacing. "That's where I had my improper use of magic hearing."

"It's also the only courtroom large enough to accommodate everyone. We should consider that a good thing, though." They all shook hands, and after waving goodbye to the others, he walked to the edge of the yard, turned on the spot, and vanished.

The Weasleys were all sitting around the table now, Hagrid at the far end in his half-crushed chair. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were there, of course, and they were joined by Mr. Weasley and George. Other than this, though, the table was empty: Bill and Fleur had gone back to live at Shell Cottage, and Percy, after spending a week or so with the family, had returned to his London flat. Charlie had also spent some time at the Burrow during the beginning of the summer, but had since returned to Romania.

Hermione, Harry and Ron walked up to the group and took their seats.

Mrs. Weasley wasted no time in interrogating them. Before Hermione could even reach for the pumpkin juice, she said impatiently, "Well? What did he want?"

Hermione knew Mrs. Weasley was not going to like what she heard, so she took the plunge. "We're going to act as witnesses in tomorrow's trial," she said bluntly.

As expected, Mrs. Weasley gasped, and after a moment of gaping open-mouthed at the three teenagers, she began to protest.

"That's ridiculous!" She said. "Why would they need you? It's dangerous, being around all of those Death Eaters again…"

"Mum, we've helped the Ministry with this kind of stuff before."

"…there's too many of them together in one room…"

"Mrs. Weasley, everything will be under control."

"…absolutely no tact, the Ministry should know not to put children in danger like that…"

"We're not children!"

"…look at what we've been through – we don't need another person hurt or –"

"MOLLY!"

Everyone stopped at looked at Mr. Weasley, who had put down his fork and stared back at his wife in an even determination.

"Molly," he repeated more calmly, "they're not children anymore – they're all of age. And they've been at the Ministry plenty of times; it's completely safe now that everything's under control."

Mrs. Weasley still looked infuriated. "But if they're in a _whole room _full of Death Eaters, who knows –"

"No buts," he said. "Kingsley obviously needs their help, or he wouldn't have asked." Then he turned to Harry. "I'll come with you three tomorrow morning. What time is it?"

"Ten o'clock," Harry answered. "And Kingsley wants us to go up and visit the Auror department afterwards."

"Oh very good; the hearing probably won't take too long then," Mr. Weasley said.

"That's what it sounded like," Harry said.

Ron snorted. "Yeah, I expect we'll just have to check under their sleeves for the Dark Mark. It can't be too hard to prove they worked for You-Know-Who. They all have a certain look about them, anyway…."

They all laughed at Ron's lightheartedness, but Hermione couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. She really did hope that the hearing would be as quick and easy as Mr. Weasley said, but a tiny part of her agreed with Mrs. Weasley: tomorrow had the potential to be dangerous if they weren't careful. And she was worried that it was nonchalance like Ron's that would cause this potential to become a terrifying reality.


	3. Something Unexpected

Something Unexpected

"...hearing, this twenty-fourth of July. Witness to the crimes of the accused: Hermione Jean Granger, Harry James Potter, and Ronald Bilius Weasley..."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Kingsley's voice began to fade. Hermione was trying hard to pay attention – she really was – but she was just so tired. She had been up most of the night before worrying childishly about escaped Death Eaters, and now she was half falling asleep in front of everyone at the trial.

_Way to stay on your guard, Hermione... there _are_ Death Eaters around, you know,_ she thought to herself furiously.

"...Kingsley Shacklebolt, temporary Minister of Magic, filling in as head of the Wizengamot..."

Hermione rubbed her eyes. It was no use; between last night and this morning, she was just in no mood to stay alert. If only she had been able to sleep a little longer than she did, maybe she would be more useful at the moment... However, she had been woken unceremoniously at the crack of dawn by the sounds of Mrs. Weasley having a heated argument with Ginny, who apparently was intent on going to the Ministry with the others. Needless to say, Hermione was now more than a little sleep-deprived.

"The accused are as followed: Avery, Crabbe, Jugson...Nott..."

Kingsley's voice was smooth and deep... and it was slowing... This was not good. Hermione was going to have to testify in just a short while and it certainly wouldn't do to pass out in front of the entire courtroom.

It was just her luck to be caught in a predicament like this: tired, in the middle of a trial, and surrounded by Death Eaters. Well, when she thought about it, her luck had never been the greatest. Just look at the last time she was stuck listening to the proceedings of a trial...

_Come on, Hermione – stop the daydreaming, already. You can get through this!_

"...Rowle, Selwyn, Travers, Yaxley..."

With an enormous amount of effort, she raised her eyes from her lap and looked across the room to where Kingsley was standing. He was currently holding a stack of papers and wearing a look of great displeasure on his face. Hermione could see why; the Death Eaters below were not exactly cooperating. They were all being loud and rowdy, struggling against the constraints of their chains and jeering at the crowded audience. Kingsley had his voice raised in an obvious attempt to talk over their noise, but was having difficulties. Perhaps this was in part why his voice seemed to be fading in and out...

"... Selwyn, charged for the torture of Xenophilius Lovegood, the assault of Harry James Potter and Rubeus Hagrid, and also for the participation in the Battle of Hogwarts this past May," Kingsley was currently saying, "Do you deny any of this?"

Hermione stared down at the Death Eaters and saw a dark man with heavy brows come forward.

"I gladly tortured that blood-traitor fool," he spat. "Anyone who helped Harry Potter bring about the downfall of the Dark Lord deserved to be tortured."

At this, the rest of the Death Eaters broke into shouts of agreement.

"These traitors will repent!"

"The Dark Lord has not truly left us!"

"You will see; he has returned before, and he will return again!"

"Silence!" Kingsley called out, his voice strained and filled with anger. He waved his wand and the group finally grew quiet. The lack of noise was deafening; Hermione had not noticed how loud they were before.

"Look," a member of the Wizengamot said. "We're obviously not getting anywhere like this; why don't we start questioning the witnesses?"

Kingsley frowned. "Very well..." he said, "I call Harry James Potter up to the stands..."

Suddenly, everything went dark.

There was a rush of noise as everyone made to stand up, and people were crying out. Over the sudden uproar she could hear raucous shouting and laughter. Chains clanged and dragged on the floor. There was a flash of light that made spots appear in front of her eyes, and now she couldn't see anything at all. Over to her right Harry was yelling something to Kingsley, and the next thing she knew, someone had grabbed her hand and jerked her out of her seat. They began running and Ron's voice sounded in her ear.

"Hermione, they have wands!"

She suddenly felt lightheaded: how had this happened? She knew the security was too lax…. It was too dangerous to have this many Death Eaters around one another… whispering, plotting together….

And now they were escaping.

The door to the courtroom flung open from the inside, and light momentarily spilled into the room, illuminating the scene before them.

Everyone had moved from their seats to the center of the room. The chained chairs were now empty, and a few bodies lay still at their feet. People were running to find one another; some were crying, others were calling out names. A member of the Wizengamot was trying to hold people back while yelling, "Please! Will everyone calm down and stay where you are! It will be safer for you all if you just remain here!"

Hermione looked beside her and saw Ron was still gripping her hand, his wand held in his other. He was mouthing something to Harry, who was standing a few feet away, looking murderous.

Then, as suddenly as the room had lit up, it was plunged into darkness again as the heavy door slammed shut. She heard Harry cry, "Well, what are we waiting for?" to Ron, and together they ran towards the front of the room, dragging Hermione behind them.

When they reached the door and pulled it open, she ripped her hand from Ron's. The corridor outside the courtroom was a mess: Death Eaters were dueling Order members left and right. Straight ahead, Hermione saw Mr. Weasley shoot a curse at Yaxley, who ducked and fired a jet of purple light back at him, narrowly missing his head and taking a chunk out of the wall behind him.

A little ways away she could see Kingsley; he, apparently, had also joined the fight. The hall was crowded, filled with a handful Death Eaters that had infiltrated the Ministry. Harry and Ron began to fire curses at the nearest ones, but Hermione was looking past the immediate source of commotion.

She grabbed Harry's shoulder and cried, "Look!"

He lowered his wand and turned his head in the direction Hermione was pointing. There were Death Eaters further down the hall, and two of them were running up the stairs, escaping to a higher level of the Ministry.

Harry didn't waste a moment chasing after them. He ran through the mess of people fighting, Hermione and Ron at his heels, and bolted up the stairs. The two Death Eaters were almost at the top now, and were so far away that they were easily dodging all of the curses sent up at them.

Hermione was still running with Ron and Harry when the Death Eaters disappeared through the door. Moments later, they also emerged onto Level 9, and saw the two men heading for the lift.

_"Confringo!"_ Harry yelled.

The wall around the lift exploded, forcing the Death Eaters to jump back. They hesitated, as though they were contemplating dueling Harry, and then ran off in the opposite direction. Hermione, Harry, and Ron all continued chasing after them, firing spells at their dark bodies, but missing as they swerved and ducked.

_No matter, _Hermione thought, _we'll reach the end of the corridor eventually, and then they'll be trapped... The door to the Department of Mysteries is usually locked, isn't it?_

It wasn't. One of the Death Eaters pointed his wand at the door and it opened easily, allowing them to run through. Hermione was thunderstruck. _No locking charms? No extra protective measures? What is _wrong _with the Ministry?! She_ thought furiously.

The door was about to close again, but Harry dashed forward and stuck his foot in between the gap to keep it open. As they all ran through, Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw three people running in their direction. She briefly wondered if they were Order members or Death Eaters.

"Hermione!"

Ron's shout broke her thoughts and she followed them into the Department of Mysteries. He was there, in the dark, circular room, holding one of the doors open.

"Harry's already gone through!" he said.

Together they ran through the door, and stopped almost immediately. Ron had gone white; they were standing in the brain room, and there, right in front of them, stood the large, greenish tank that held the huge, tentacle-clad brain. Suddenly, a wave of déjà vuhit her like an oncoming train. Hadn't they already been through this before? Hadn't the war ended? She knew today wouldn't be safe, but she would have never guessed they would ever find themselves running through the Department of Mysteries again.

Shouts from the back of the room broke her thoughts; Harry was dueling with a Death Eater she didn't know, and he looked like he needed help.

"C'mon, Ron," Hermione said, and pushed him forward. They ran towards the other end of the room, dodging various desks, jars and tanks, to where Harry was standing.

"Petrificus totalus!" she cried. The curse just missed the Death Eater, who turned towards Hermione. He was about to retaliate when all of a sudden, the door burst open again and three more Death Eaters came running their way.

Ron raised his wand._ "Protego!"_ he called.

The shield charm erupted from her wand just in time to block a shower of curses sent by the new Death Eaters. The jets of light bounced off of the barrier and rebounded back towards the Death Eaters. One was hit and fell limp to the floor; the other two were forced to dive out of the way.

Harry took advantage of this momentary diversion and shot a full body-bind curse right at his Death Eater, who fell flat on his face. He and Ron were about to go for the remaining men, but Hermione got in their way.

"No!" She said, pushing them back. "Let's just get out of here – we can get them later!"

She groped in the darkness for a door, looking frantically over her shoulder at the other two Death Eaters. They were still on the other side of the room, blocked by the shield, but were steadily making their way over.

"Over here!" Hermione called from a dark corner. She pushed the door open and stumbled through. Expecting to land on solid ground, her feet slipped from out under her, and she went tumbling down, landing hard every so often on a jagged piece of rock. It wasn't until she had finally stopped that she realized she had fallen down a very large staircase.

Hermione looked up and saw she was lying in the bottom of a familiar amphitheater. Directly above her was the towering stone archway, ancient and crumbling, and hung with the tattered veil through which Sirius had fallen years ago.

She didn't have time to dwell on these memories, though, because a moment later shouts sounded from the top of the stairs: the four Death Eaters just burst in from the brain room and started taking the stairs down two at a time. Harry and Ron, who were both near the bottom of the room, shot disarming spells at the Death Eaters and then ran over to Hermione.

"Hermione!" Harry called out to her. "We need to let the Order know we're down here –"

A jet of light just missed his shoulder. They both ducked and turned around to see Ron dueling with a man Hermione thought to be Avery. Harry apparently forgot his train of thought and ran over to help Ron.

Meanwhile, Hermione was thinking of how to contact the Order. She'd need a Patronus, most likely... but she had never conjured one for communication before; would it work?

She was about to work the spell when all of a sudden a door flew open to their left and three more Death Eaters ran in, pointing their wands directly at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

The one dueling Harry began to laugh.

"It seems like your days are numbered, Harry Potter!" he yelled gleefully. "You could only evade the Dark Lord for so long… but now his most loyal followers have finally caught you! Wouldn't he be pleased to know that your pathetic life will finally be ending – and at the hands of his own cause!"

They continued fighting, both of them throwing spells at an alarming speed.

"_Loyal followers?_" Harry called back. He was red in the face from anger and also from the fast-paced duel. "You're all cowards, that's what you are; you – "

But Harry never got the chance to finish his sentence; at that moment, an explosion of enormous proportions took place, sending everyone flying. Hermione could barely see anything; the world had become filled with fire and smoke. Chunks of rock and debris were falling through the air, hitting her body. She couldn't breath. All she knew was that Harry and Ron were still on either side of her; they had both flown up and fallen together, though she didn't know where they were in relation to the Death Eaters.

Laughter pierced through the air like a knife, and beside her, Hermione heard Ron groan. She tried to get up but the ground was too unsteady beneath her feet. The smoke had cleared slightly by now, and she was almost able to make out where they were, when a second, slightly smaller explosion took place.

Though they weren't hit by the blast itself, they did feel its effects: the ground shook violently beneath them, and Harry and Ron, who Hermione could now see were in the process of standing up, were knocked off balance.

Then, in a split second, several things happened at once.

There was a flutter of a light breeze, and Hermione suddenly knew where they were; she, Ron, and Harry had all been thrown backwards onto the dais, right by veil. Then, in a sickening jolt, she realized that the other two were falling in its direction.

No, this couldn't be happening. Harry and Ron, her best friends, were not falling to their deaths. She couldn't let this happen…. The world still needed Harry…. She needed Ron. The Death Eater was wrong; they would not be dying today.

In the same second, Hermione acted without thinking. She lunged forward and reached out for a hand, trying to pull back the body of whoever was falling, but it was too late; he was falling too fast and the weight was too much for her to hold. Despite this, Hermione held on tightly. The hand she was holding gripped back, and together, they plummeted towards the veil.

Just before they entered the darkness, a flash of light illuminated the room, and Hermione could see the face of who she was holding.

It was Harry.

His face was white, but determined-looking, as though he knew they would make it out of this mess. With his free hand he tried to grab the side of the archway, a jagged rock, anything to keep them upright and out of the veil, but it was no use; his hand slipped away from everything he touched, and they continued to grow ever closer to the tattered curtain.

Hermione twisted around to see Ron. He was a tangle of limbs, falling even faster than Harry, and his face was contorted with a mixture of shock and horror. His eyes were wide as he stared back at Hermione, and she knew he was trying to process what had just happened. She tried to reach out for him, to grab him, so at least they were all together, but it was too late. In the split second she had taken to stretch out her arm, Ron had already disappeared through the sheet of darkness that was the veil. A crushing finality weighed on her chest. Ron was gone, dead, his life snuffed out like a candle… and she was going next.

It happened in another second: Hermione closed her eyes, bracing herself for the end, when they finished their tumble and finally reached the ancient shroud. She felt the cool brush of the veil on her cheek first. It was light to the touch, as though it wasn't really fabric at all, but a dense early-morning mist. The sensation spread to the rest of her body: she could feel it fluttering on her arms and torso, and then it followed on her legs.

Meanwhile, the room in front of her was being pulled away. She could still see it, though as if through warped glass. It was becoming hazy, indistinct, and it was growing smaller every second. She felt as if they were falling down a tunnel, away from the Death Chamber….

All of a sudden, the world turned gray. Hermione couldn't distinguish anything anymore; not Harry, herself, nor even the now distant veil. The cool, gray fog was so dense that she wondered if it was merely masking their surroundings, or if it had _become _their surroundings…. Had they become part of the mist? Though Hermione felt oddly detached, she was surprised she could still think. Then she realized she was still holding Harry's hand; despite the overall peculiarity of their situation, she could feel his fingers wrapped tightly around hers and the familiar warmth of his palm. Harry was still there, so she must still be there, though were 'there' was, she had no idea...

They seemed to hang in the misty nothingness for what seemed like forever. Hermione was disoriented; there was no telling what was up or down, or where they were even going. All she knew was the cool mist on her skin, and the growing accompanying sensation of prickling needles.

Ever so slightly, the feeling of needles on her body grew more pronounced and she felt as if they were penetrating her skin, feeling their way right through her insides. She began to burn in pain and she longed to yell out, but all attempts were futile; she could not scream nor move any limbs. Her body had stiffened up, and she wondered why death was being so uncomfortable.

Even her thoughts were hazy now, and she was even having trouble processing her pain. She felt dizzy and lightheaded and just as she was losing consciousness, she dimly hoped that Harry and Ron would be okay. Maybe this wasn't the end…. Maybe this was just some sick dream…. Maybe they would find their way out of this somehow… maybe….

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm really sorry for the long update – I know I said it would only be another week or so, but for some reason, this chapter really gave me problems. I think I must have rewritten it about ten times – and I still really dislike it! Somehow, it seems off to me... the whole scene at the Ministry had to happen, but I don't know if it was too soon or out of place. The problem was, I didn't want to stretch out the beginning too much because I'm afraid the story will drag. 

Anyway, what I'm really trying to say is that I'm not happy with this right now and would like to fix it. It would really be helpful if you could give me some of your thoughts on this... otherwise, I have a feeling this chapter is going to stick out like a sore thumb.

On a different note, thanks to Schermione, Right or Ryn, and blindfaithoperadiva for the reviews! They make me happy.


	4. Through the Veil

Whoa, an update! First of all, I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed. I really love to hear from you guys! If, for some reason, I didn't respond to your review, consider this both an apology and a thank you. I like to respond to the messages I receive, but if I didn't it was because I was so overwhelmed with schoolwork that I completely forgot.

Speaking of school, that is my lousy excuse for not getting this chapter up as quickly as I would have liked. Sometimes I feel that I just don't have the time to write, which is unfortunate, because the chapters are (for me) becoming more interesting to plan out. I think the story starts to pick up here, so let me know what you think. And I promise, the update won't take nearly as long this time!

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Through the Veil

_Even her thoughts were hazy now, and she was having trouble processing her pain. She felt dizzy and lightheaded and just as she was losing consciousness, she dimly hoped that Harry and Ron would be okay. Maybe this wasn't the end… Maybe this was just some sick dream… Maybe they would find their way out of this somehow… maybe…_

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Maybe she was just fooling herself.

Hermione's thoughts picked up right where they left off – it was as if she had dozed for only a few minutes and then awoke completely and miraculously rejuvenated. Everything of the past day came back to her: the trial, the Death Eaters, falling into the veil, dying... She felt so composed, so levelheaded... it was as if death brought upon an epiphany, and anything that was confusing in life now made sense. She kept replaying the last day in her mind, bit by bit, and after quite some time, she could only think one thing: why had she, in life, thought herself to be so invincible?

To be honest, the abrupt end of her life was quite shocking. Hermione had never expected to die so young, especially after the end of the war. She supposed that like so many others, she foolishly thought herself indestructible, ready to face anything. But the sad truth of the matter was that her life had been delicate, and she had treated it carelessly. If only she had prepared herself a little more– perhaps thought of other possibilities in advance – she would have been able to prevent this unfortunate end. But alas, she had followed Harry and Ron as usual, never thinking to stop them or to run away. They ran right into the face of danger, and now they were dead.

Not that death seemed awful as of yet. In fact, it was actually quite pleasant. Any physical pain she had felt before was gone, as was any sense of anxiety. Her surroundings were unbelievably comfortable... she could feel a light breeze, and the air was cool and crisp. Ironically, it smelt sweet of fresh growth and blossoming fruits. And it was quiet... so quiet it was deafening.

As she lay there – yes, she was definitely laying somewhere – she could begin to feel a cool moistness seep into her side. It was almost earthy, dappled with early-morning dew, though it was more textured. In fact, had she been alive, she would be certain she was lying on a bed of grass.

She cracked an eye open.

_Well what do you know – it _is_ grass._

Her eyes traveled from the ground upwards and she noticed that she was lying in the middle of a large, grassy field. It was all so real looking... there were trees in the distance, and birds were fluttering around overhead. The sky was the palest blue; it looked as though the sun had just risen. She sighed... everything was so beautiful; why had she not appreciated things like this while she had been alive?

Wait a minute. _She sighed._ Did that mean...?

Hermione lifted her hands and felt her face. She was certainly solid and very real-feeling. Her hair was still there, as were the scars on her arm from battle, and she was wearing the same clothes that she had on at the trial. She felt her chest – she was breathing. She had a pulse... She got up and looked herself over once more.

_Oh Merlin, I'm alive!_

Hermione had never been so happy, had never appreciated a sunrise more in her life. God, she had never even been so elated to see herself bleeding! She laughed. Oh, it felt so good to laugh!

Suddenly, something sounded behind her. Hermione spun around and saw Harry rolling onto his back, coughing.

_Harry! _He was alive, too! She ran over and knelt by his side.

"Harry, wake up," she whispered urgently. She needed to make sure he was okay... he would be able to confirm that they really were alive and that this wasn't just some twisted dream...

After a few moments he opened his eyes and looked at her groggily.

"_Hermione_," he croaked. "What... didn't we... the veil..."

"Harry," she interrupted. "I have no idea what happened or where we are. But you... would you – do you know if we are..." She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud, but instead made a rather ominous-looking gesture.

Slowly, he reached his hand up to his forehead and delicately ran a finger along his scar.

"No," he said firmly, "we're not dead."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was fine! How they managed to make it through the veil alive was beyond her, but they could always investigate that later. Now they needed to figure out where they were and what happened to Ron. She hadn't seen him anywhere around yet, and was starting to think he ended up elsewhere. But if they were alive, he must be too...

She started to ask Harry's opinion on the matter. "What do you th– "

"Shhh..." He sat up and shoved his hand over her mouth, muffling the rest of her sentence. With his other hand he reached under his robes and drew out a long, silvery cloak – the invisibility cloak. Hermione let out a muted shout of surprise. He had had the cloak with him this entire time and didn't even think to use it around the Death Eaters? Was he stupid?

However, she did not get to voice these thoughts because he kept his hand firmly planted on her mouth. Wordlessly, he threw the cloak over their two bodies, and after a few moments of sitting in silence, he let go and pointed in the direction of the woods.

It was only now that she could hear something. There were soft footsteps and the sounds of plants being pushed aside. Someone was approaching them... she could see the dark figure of a man hidden behind the trees. He stood still, as if watching them, though he was obviously only staring out into empty space now. Had he seen them before they threw on the cloak?

Harry poked her in the arm and motioned toward the other side of the field.

_Let's go,_ he mouthed.

Very slowly and carefully, the two began making their way towards the patch of trees opposite the unknown figure. It was slow work, considering the cloak was a bit small for two grown people, but they made it across safely without the man making any notion that he had seen them. After a few more minutes of crouching in the shadows of a bush, he retreated back into the forest, and Harry removed the cloak.

Hermione cast _muffliato_ before speaking. "Who do you think he was?" she asked. "A Death Eater?"

He frowned. "It's strange... I don't think so. Wouldn't they all be at the Ministry right now? And where _are _we?" He started to pace.

"Harry," she replied slowly, "I don't think the Death Eaters are at the Ministry anymore."

"Why not? We need to get back there, the Order needs help..."

She grabbed his wrist and stopped his pacing. "There's something wrong here. Don't you remember what happened?"

"Yes," he said impatiently, "we went through the veil. But we're obviously not dead; we're fine, aren't we? It must have just thrown us somewhere else... we can probably apparate right back..."

"What about Ron?"

Harry ripped his arm away. "What about him? He was still in the Death Chamber; that's why we need to get back... he needs help..." Suddenly, he went white.

Hermione's gaze softened. "He fell with us, Harry," she said softly. And I don't see him anywhere." She bit her lip. It was very odd that Ron hadn't ended up with them. Had they been separated just by chance, or was it something else?

"You don't think he could be anywhere around here? Maybe we just missed him?" Harry asked.

"No, I don't think so," she replied, somewhat guiltily. She was starting to think that it was her fault they couldn't find him... what if he was missing because he fell alone? Had she grabbed him along with Harry, would he be with them right now? Did staying with Harry save both of their lives? What if Ron, because he fell before either one of them, didn't make it? The thought was sickening.

"What do you propose we do?" she asked Harry, trying to curb her newfound range of emotions. "Should we look for him somewhere else?"

"Well," Harry paused. "If Ron isn't anywhere around here, maybe we should just go back to the Ministry first. We could at least find out what happened to us, and then decide where to go from there."

Hermione crossed her arms. "To be honest, I think that's an awful idea," she said.

He gave her an odd look. "Why not? Wouldn't it make sense to go back to the place we came from?"

"Under normal circumstances, maybe... but we fell through the _veil_, Harry. And here we are, alive, having a conversation in the middle of nowhere – something just doesn't add up. Shouldn't we be dead now?"

Harry looked a bit uncomfortable. "Look, I've been there and back, and I know we're not dead –"

"I'm not saying we are. I'm just saying it's odd, that's all. And we don't even know where we are, or how long we've been gone. It must have been a while; look, it's not even the same day..."

He raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about, 'it's not even the same day,'?"

Hermione sighed and pointed towards the sky. "Honestly, do you not notice _anything?_ The sun's just rising now – and it was mid-morning when we ran into the Department of Mysteries! We must have been knocked out for a while... so all I'm saying is that I doubt we were just transported somewhere else, and I would think it's really unwise to go back to the Ministry when we have no idea what is going on."

There was a long pause; the two of them just stood staring at each other, waiting for the other to continue.

Finally, Harry spoke.

"Why don't we go to the Burrow? If it really is the follow day, we don't need to be at the Ministry, and we could probably get more questions answered by the Weasleys. Plus, they're probably worried about us," he added, "if they don't already think we're dead, that is."

Hermione hesitated. She really felt that they should try scouting around for Ron first, but perhaps visiting the Burrow couldn't hurt... "Alright," she conceded, "it must be safer than the Ministry anyway..."

"Of course," Harry said, grabbing her hand, "and you never know, Ron might be there. If he was lost, I'm sure he'd try to get back home."

She nodded, squeezed her hand back, and together they turned on the spot and disapparated.

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There was the familiar sensation of being sucked through a tube and then seconds later, Hermione landed hard on the ground. She turned her head towards the direction of the Burrow... and continued turning... then spun her body around completely...

"Harry."

He too was staring widely around, searching for the house that was, well, _missing_.

Hermione felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth was dry as she spoke. "Did we miss it?"

Harry didn't say anything; he simply pointed in the direction of a small town in the distance – Ottery St. Catchpole – the town just outside the property of the Burrow. Slowly, they both stared from the small clump of buildings, past a familiar lock of trees, towards a rather empty-looking hill.

Hermione shivered.

There was no denying it: the Burrow was _gone._

"Harry," she repeated, walking in the direction of the hill. She spun around once more, for good measure. Houses, even magical ones, did not just disappear. "What could have possibly happened?"

He walked up to the property with her. "A Fidelius Charm?" he asked.

"Why would they need to use one? Weren't the Death Eaters contained in the Ministry?"

"You never know."

"They never needed a Fidelius Charm before – even with Voldemort in power, and everyone looking for you..."

"I'm just saying." He walked around the rest of the property, inspecting the over-grown grass. An overwhelming sense of dread lodged itself in Hermione's throat. No matter what Harry said, she knew something was just _wrong._

"What about the veil?" she asked quietly when he drew close again.

Harry looked nervous. "What are you saying," he whispered, "that we're in... in some kind of... alternate reality where the Burrow and the Weasleys don't exist? Is that why we couldn't find Ron?"

"No, don't be thick. That's the stupidest thing I think I've ever heard you say." Hermione crossed her arms and stared past his shoulder at the empty field.

"Well you weren't taking too well to the Fidelius Charm idea," he replied. "At least I'm trying to explain the fact that there's no evidence to suggest that the Burrow even _existed._"

A surge of annoyance welled up inside Hermione. "I'm just saying," she said, her voice rising with her nerves, "that I think it's highly unlikely that something as simple as a Fidelius Charm could explain this. We fell through the veil, Harry, and no, there are no such things as alternate realities."

He glared at her. "How do you know? Have you ever known someone who has fallen through the veil and made it out alive? We're obviously not dead – we've already been through that – so how could you possibly say that there are no such things as alternate realities?"

She hesitated. "Well under normal circumstances..."

"Like you said before, these circumstances are far from normal." He gave her a look that was almost condescending, and for a split second, Hermione wanted to slap him. Why did he have to get such an attitude?

"Fine," she said, her teeth gritted in annoyance. "Anything could have happened to us. We could be in an alternate reality, we could have been transported somewhere else..." she began ticking the possibilities off on her fingers.

"We could have just been caught in there for a while and thrown back out," Harry suggested.

"Or maybe we really are dead and perceiving ourselves to be alive?"

"...okay, fine."

"I just wish," Hermione said, tapping her chin, "that there were some way to find out for sure without going back to the Ministry. If there were only someone to ask..."

Suddenly, Harry's face lit up. "I think I have an idea," he said. "If we check... yes, and if something is wrong..." His eyes glazed over. "And if it's okay we go find... yes!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What?" she asked.

"Come on; you'll see." Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, disapparating once more.

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"Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked, as soon as she made out her immediate surroundings.

"Yes, I'm not a complete idiot," he said, still smiling. To Hermione's look of skepticism he added, "We'll be able to find out if anything is wrong at the Ministry, and we can always check in with George to see what's going on at the Weasley's."

"Unless his shop is missing and then we're back to square one," Hermione said.

Harry shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. But for now I say we have a look around."

As they started down the cobblestone alleyway, Hermione began to feel much better about their current situation. Everything seemed so... normal. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and for a minute or so, she almost forgot about the veil and the Burrow. Now she could be sixteen again and going back to Hogwarts... the streets were filled with people of all ages, shopping and enjoying the beautiful morning. Nothing suggested to her that something bad had happened at the Ministry, or anywhere else, for that matter. In fact, the overwhelming sense of normality seemed a bit... off. Sure, business had picked up again after the end of the war, but wasn't this a bit much?

She was about to relate this idea to Harry when she turned around and saw him crouching on the ground, staring at something open-mouthed.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

He stood up and she was able to see what he was staring at: a copy of _The Daily Prophet._

A million things went through Hermione's head at once: what was wrong? What on the front page of the Daily Prophet could be shocking enough to get a response like that out of Harry? Had anyone died? Did it have to do with the Death Eaters? Was it something about the veil? About their disappearance?

After what seemed like forever, Harry's gaze moved from the newspaper to Hermione's eyes.

He coughed. "Start from the top of the page. I think this will explain everything," he said in a low, flat tone.

Her heart beating rapidly, Hermione took the paper and scanned the front page.

"_Wizards in Sussex..._" she started

"No, no – the very top," he said, pointing at the heading.

"_The Daily Prophet?" _she asked, curiously.

Harry nodded. "Yes. Go on."

"_Volume II..._"

Where was he going with this?

"_Issue CCCXIV..._"

Oh Merlin.

"_September 14, 1944_."

She blinked.

"_1944_?"


	5. Familiar Faces

**Author's note:** Okay, okay, I realize that this was not exactly the quick update I promised last time, but do forgive me. I had started writing this chapter when I had to stop to write my final papers for the end of the semester (groan), and then suddenly the holidays came and went. But now I finally have some free time so I can actually get somewhere with this story (hurrah!). And as always, that you so much for the reviews – they mean so much to me!

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Familiar Faces

_"1944?"_

Her heart seemed to stop, yet she was breathing rapidly and her hands were shaking. She looked at Harry, who was still standing with a look of shock on his face, and tried to say something, but no words came out.

A million things ran through her head at once – the veil, 1944, time travel, Ron – it all made sense! No wonder they hadn't been able to see the Burrow – it hadn't been built yet! And Ron... had he been thrown back to an even different time? Does the veil send someone back to a different place each time they fall through? How does it work? Perhaps it is like a massive timeturner... or is it something completely different? The thought was unnerving. What a discovery! It was amazing, really...

"Hermione," Harry said, breaking her thoughts. He was holding a second _Prophet_ in his hands. "There are more of them, you know. I know it's hard to believe, but it must be today's paper. And if you think about it, everything that just happened makes sense..."

All of a sudden the enormity of the situation hit her, and she couldn't understand why Harry wouldn't stop talking.

"Harry!" she said. "Stop it!"

He paused, and gave her an odd look. "Wha –"

But Hermione wouldn't let him finish. Instead, she grabbed his arm and violently pulled him forward.

"What are you doing?" Harry gasped as he was dragged along.

"Shh!" Hermione hissed. "Just shut up!"

They reached the side of the street and Hermione pushed him into a small alleyway between two buildings.

"Hermione!" he said, "what –"

She pushed past him, farther into the shadows. "Keep your voice down!" she whispered fiercely.

" –but why?"

"Harry, if it's true – if this really is 1944 – then we have a problem. We can't let anyone see us! If they know we're from the –" she lowered her voice even further, "...the future, we could be in huge trouble. You know we can't mess with time!"

Harry shifted along the wall, probably attempting to position himself less awkwardly. "I seriously don't think we were messing with time by simply standing in the street," he said. "We don't exactly stand out from the crowd."

It doesn't matter!" she said shrilly. "Anyone could find out... and who knows what would happen if they did? Think of how history could change!"

"Hermione, I understand your point, but it's going to be very hard to not talk to anyone while we're around here..."

Hermione wasn't listening. "...just think of what could happen. If Voldemort were to find out he could get information from us in an instant... and then you _know _he would be unstoppable. We'd be in so much trouble with anyone, really; even if someone from the Ministry were to catch us... they could use our memories, force us to talk with Veriteserum..."

"But what are the odds," Harry interrupted, "of someone discovering something like that if we _never mention it?_"

She clicked her tongue impatiently. "We don't have to necessarily _tell_ anyone, Harry – there's plenty of evidence all around us! Look – our clothes, the way we talk or act; no matter what you say, we just don't fit in here! Besides, even if no one actually found out, our mere presence could cause people to act differently than when we weren't here!"

"Act differently...?"

"Of course," she said, waving her hand impatiently. "Say we talk to someone – anyone, really – and we indirectly say something to influence their behavior, however small. That small change could change something else, and so on. It would be a cascade of changes, all because we were here when we weren't supposed to be, and the future could end up being wildly different!"

Harry sighed. "Okay, okay – fine. We'll have to be careful. But what are we going to do? Can you honestly stay hidden behind these buildings forever? It may be safer, but just a tad bit unpractical, if you ask me."

"No, you're right..." She frowned. How _were_ they going to deal with this?

"It would probably be best," Harry went on, "if we don't think about any repercussions we might cause, especially if we're going to be here for a while. I mean, we can't _not_ talk to anyone. In fact, we'll probably have to ask someone for help..."

Hermione blanched. "Help? _Help?_ Are you actually suggesting that we willingly _tell_ someone we've gone back in time? Have you gone _mad?"_

"Well, then, do _you _have any ideas of how to get back?"

"Er... well, how –" she paused. "...well of course not! Just because I've used a Time-Turner doesn't mean I'm an expert on time travel." She narrowed her eyes, trying to see Harry in the dim light. He appeared to be smirking.

"There you go," he said. "If you don't have any ideas, and I don't have any ideas, how do you suppose we'll ever get back? We need to get someone's help, whether it be an Unspeakable – "

Hermione's jaw dropped. "An _Unspeakable?_" she interrupted.

"The Unspeakables might help us if they think we can help them learn about the veil," Harry said.

"Oh right," she said sarcastically. "The Unspeakables will be _much_ more interested in learning about the _veil_ than all the information we could give them about the _future_."

"Okay – fine, then!" Harry said, holding his hands up defensively. "We won't go to the Ministry. But why don't we try someone else? I'm sure there's got to be someone who knows a bit about time travel around here."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Like who?"

"Well," he said slowly, "what about Dumbledore?"

"Harry, that's just as bad!" Hermione cried. "In fact, that's worse – we _know_ him! What do you think that will do to our future?"

"Come on, Hermione. Dumbledore is completely responsible; we can definitely trust him with something like this. And if we don't talk to someone, I have a feeling we won't have a future."

Hermione glared at him. "Are you saying our future is more important than the future of wizarding history?"

"No, of course not." He paused. "We don't have to tell him anything about ourselves, you know, just that we're from the future. Unless, of course, you just want to try jumping into the veil again and see where we end up this time."

Hermione's mind swam with images of breaking into the Ministry and sneaking past the Unspeakables. "No; we'd have no control of where we'd end up. Imagine finding ourselves five hundred, a thousand years back in time!" she said.

There was an awkward pause where both pondered the situation. Hermione shifted her position against the wall and a rat ran past, bringing with it a huge cloud of dust around their ankles.

"Dumbledore's starting to look pretty good," Harry offered after a while.

Hermione frowned. They really were in a bind; they had no means of getting back on their own, but going to Dumbledore to get help would mean compromising the secrecy of time travel, and perhaps the chain of events for the next sixty or more years.

"If only we could do some research first... make sure we have no other choice..." she said, in a last ditch effort to prevent the inevitable.

"The library can't hold the answers to everything, Hermione," he said.

"Well..."

"So are you ready, then?" he asked, shimming past her again. "Because I don't know about you, but it's really uncomfortable back here..."

xxxxxxxxxx

Twenty minutes later they were both walking through Hogsmeade in the direction of Hogwarts.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Hermione said under her breath.

"Come on, Hermione; it can't be that bad.

She grimaced. "We're completely messing with time – of course it's going to be bad."

"I'm sure he'll be able to help us. It's really our only shot of getting back... Are you sure you don't want a biscuit?" He held out a piece of bread.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I don't eat stolen food," she said stiffly.

"Are you sure? No one saw me and you must be getting hungry by now. We haven't eaten in hours." He waved the biscuit in front of her face.

"No thanks," she said with an air of finality. The two continued to walk in silence towards the edge of the village, then up the path leading to the castle. It was around noon by now, and Hermione could see students milling about on the grounds as they drew closer. They reached the gates and were about to enter when they realized they were locked out.

Harry grasped the wrought-iron bars and pulled. Nothing happened. "That's odd," he said. "Why would they lock the gates?" He shook the bars and only succeeded in making a racket. Several of the more nearby students looked up at this and started whispering to themselves urgently. Hermione groaned. She could only imagine the gossip they would cause.

"Great," she said. "Way to stay out of the way and unnoticed."

"Hermione, it doesn't matter," Harry said, taking out his wand. He began tapping the gate in various places and, not surprisingly, it didn't budge. "We'll be out of here in no time. No one is ever going to remember the two strangers who appeared at the Hogwarts gates one random September day..."

She crossed her arms. "You better hope not."

"'cuse me," a voice said in the distance. Hermione looked up and saw a huge boy walking in their way – he must have been at least seven feet tall, and he was wide, too, with a round, boyish face and black eyes that seemed oddly familiar...

It was Hagrid. Hermione was sure of it – how many other half-giants did Hogwarts house in the 1940's? She started at him for a moment, then at Harry, who apparently was trying to think of something to say. He opened his mouth a few times but no words came out.

Hagrid had reached the gates and looked at them curiously. "Who are yeh?" he finally asked. "An' why are yeh here?"

Hermione's mind began to race. She was starting to wish they had agreed on an alibi before coming. "Hagrid," she said, thinking off the top of her head.

Both Hagrid and Harry stared at her like she had two heads.

"Er, I mean, you must be Hagrid! Dumbledore has told us so many great things about you," she continued.

Hagrid coughed. "How d'you know Professor Dumbledore?" he asked.

"We're old family friends," Hermione said. "Our parents go way back."

Harry evidently caught on and nodded his head. "Yes, and we needed to ask him a favor. Do you mind letting us in to talk with him?"

Hagrid looked suspicious. "I dunno..." he said cautiously.

"I'm Hermione, by the way," she said, sticking her hand out through the bars. "And this is Harry."

He shook both of their hands and then glanced back at the castle. "Does he know yer here?" he asked.

"No, but this is urgent," Harry said.

"Please, Hagrid? It would really help us out," Hermione said. "We wouldn't ask if it wasn't an emergency."

"An emergency?" he repeated.

"Yes, Hagrid – an emergency," Harry said. "We really have no one else to turn to. Can you please let us in?"

He hesitated. "I'm really not supposed ter do tha'..."

Harry looked like he was getting nervous now. "Hagrid, you've got to let us in. We'll only be ten minutes; then you get let us go. I promise we won't do anything else."

Apparently, this was enough for him. After another moment or so he proceeded to open the gates and usher them inside. They both came through shaking his hands and thanking him profusely.

"It's fine," he said. "We jus' have ter be careful abou' letting certain people in the grounds nowadays, with the war goin' on and everythin'..."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and mouthed to Harry, _war?_ She thought the war with Grindelwald hadn't really reached Britain. Hadn't it been contained in the north?

Harry shrugged and followed Hagrid up towards the castle. Of course, they received wild stares from just about everyone on their way inside. Hermione kept her head down the entire time, wishing that she was anywhere else but there. She could practically feel the effect of her presence on everyone that she passed.

Luckily, they managed to make it inside without anyone approaching them. However, this changed when someone called out as they were just about to climb the stairs.

"Rubeus," he said. "What are you doing?"

A tall figure emerged from the shadows and walked calmly towards the front of the staircase. In the light, Hermione could see he had dark, wavy hair, and piercing black eyes. His face was decidedly handsome, with sharp features that were accentuated by the shadows of the hall. She couldn't tell if he was angry or impatient; rather, he just stood staring at Hagrid waiting for an answer.

Hagrid looked very uncomfortable. "This is Harry an' Hermione," he said slowly. "I'm takin' 'em ter see Professor Dumbledore. They're friends, yeh see."

The boy continued staring at him, then turned to Hermione and Harry. His gaze was intense. She felt as if she was being scanned; after a few moments of staring back at him she had to avert her eyes. She subsequently turned to look at Harry and saw that something was wrong. He too was looking at this new stranger, but was blinking rapidly and had a look of disgust on his face. Hermione was about to say something to him, but the boy spoke up again.

"As gamekeeper at this school," he said to Hagrid softly, "you should have been aware that we are not allowing any visitations at the moment. The gates are locked for a reason." He paused. "You should also have realized that Professor Dumbledore is not available at the moment. Had you paid any attention whatsoever, you would have known that he left the school last night on urgent business."

Hagrid stared down at the floor. "Well, I... he didn'..."

"Enough," the boy said. "Don't let it happen again." Now he turned back to Harry and Hermione. "I didn't know that Dumbledore had friends so... young."

"He's a family friend," Hermione said quickly. "He knew our parents."

He inclined his head, as though inviting her to continue.

"He's told us to come see him if we ever needed a favor, and we've found ourselves in a bit of a bind... so here we are. We need to talk to him." Hermione refused to say more to this boy. It was their business, after all; not his.

He raised an eyebrow. "As I said before, Dumbledore is not here at the moment. Though, if your problem is that urgent, I'll bring you to the headmaster instead." He turned on the spot and began climbing the stairs. The other three followed suit, though Hermione trailed behind with Harry.

As soon as the boy was out of earshot she whispered, "what's the matter?"

Harry still had the same look on his face. Hermione couldn't exactly tell what was wrong – he obviously knew who this person was in the future. She agreed he seemed familiar, but she couldn't decide where she had seen him before.

Harry widened his eyes. _Voldemort_, he mouthed.

Hermione's jaw dropped. Of course – Voldemort was still a student at Hogwarts here! Hadn't he been Head Boy right around now? This was before he had started a war, killed hundreds of people, even before he began working at Borgin and Burkes. Had he even made his first Horcrux as of yet? She stared at his back, marveling at the boy who had yet become a monster.

All of a sudden Hermione realized she was walking alone. She turned back and saw that Harry had slowed to a stop, and was now pulling out his wand. He looked oddly detached, and she knew instantly what was going on inside his head.

"Harry – no, don't; you can't!" She was at loss for words. How could he even _think_ of doing something so stupid?

"Do you know what this could mean?" he asked quietly, staring at his wand.

"No; absolutely not! I forbid it! Don't you remember our conversation?"

"But Hermione, if I could just –"

_"No!"_

"One little –"

_"No!"_

He glared at her. "Just think of what we could do! We could save so many lives; prevent an entire war... "

"And cause something even worse to happen instead? You can't risk it, Harry!" She was close to tears. "Please don't touch him! Just... just pretend he's not here, okay?"

"Is there a problem?" Voldemort – no, _Tom Riddle_ – had turned around at their fit of whispering and called out from the other end of the hall.

"No, we're fine," she replied. "It's just been long day." She and Harry began walking towards him again. Hermione saw that his wand was still out and whispered, "please leave him alone? Trust me about this."

He glared at her again. "I would've thought you'd understand," he said quietly.

Hermione held her breath, waiting for the inevitable to happen, but instead of cursing the young Voldemort, he pocketed his wand.

"Thank you, Harry. You don't realize how much this means to me," she said.

He didn't respond. Finally, they had reached the stone gargoyle that blocked the staircase to the headmaster's office, and Riddle spoke the password. As the gargoyle jumped aside he turned to Hagrid and said, "you may go now. There's no need for you to crowd Dippet's office, also."

Hagrid didn't look surprised, and with a pang of remorse, Hermione realized that he was probably used to this kind of treatment around the castle. She was about to say something but Hagrid had already nodded his head in their direction and walked away. After a moment, the three of them stepped onto the staircase, and were brought to the office's door. Riddle knocked and waited.

"Enter," said a feeble voice from inside.

Riddle held open the door and let Hermione and Harry pass through first. They were met with an extremely old, bald wizard, whom Hermione had only seen in portrait form before. "Good afternoon Tom," he said. His eyes widened at the sight of Harry and Hermione. "Who are these people? Did they come through the gates?"

"Professor Dippet," he said, in what Hermione believed to be his most polite voice. "Sir, they don't seem to be harmful, but I just saw Hagrid escorting these two people to the castle, and I know we're not allowing visitors at the moment so I thought you might like to know –"

"We were just here to see Dumbledore!" Harry said. "Is there any way we can get in contact with him?"

Dippet looked at them oddly. "As I'm sure Mr. Riddle has already told you, Professor Dumbledore is not here at the moment. He left last night on business and won't be back for quite a while." He paused. "But may I ask why you are so interested to see him?"

"He's an old friend of the family," Hermione said. "We're, uh, in a bind, and we need to talk to him." She looked at Harry and he nodded in agreement.

"Hm," Dippet said, peering at them even closer. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Hermione, and Harry," she said, "Wilkins." It was the fake last name she had given her parents last year, and the first to come to her mind.

"You're siblings, then?" Dippet asked.

"Yes," she replied, inwardly cursing herself for not thinking of a second name. She turned to Harry and grimaced.

"Wilkins..." Dippet repeated slowly. "Isn't that a Muggle last name?"

_Great,_ she thought. _Way to think ahead, Hermione._

"Our father was a Muggle-born, sir," she said lamely. "Our mother, a witch."

"I wasn't aware that Dumbledore knew a Wilkins," he said.

"We used to live in Godric's Hollow," she said, thinking quickly.

Apparently that got his attention. "Godric's Hollow?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. At this, Riddle also looked up, somewhat interested.

"Yes," she continued, a little more confidently. "We were born and raised in Godric's Hollow. Our mother grew up there, too. That's how she knew Dumbledore, you see. Her family lived right down the street from the Dumbledores." She paused for dramatic effect; though this was a bit of a risk, it was certainly going to get him curious.

"She wasn't around back then, of course, but my grandparents were – they knew Dumbledore when his mother passed away... and then the accident with Ariana... It was tough on him, Professor Dumbledore... well, you could only imagine, really... losing half your family in a matter of a few months!"

Everyone in the room had gone silent and was staring at her in shock. Harry seemed stunned that she actually divulged information like this to Dippet and Riddle. Meanwhile, Riddle himself was probably astonished at this revelation. Hopefully, Dippet knew a bit about Dumbledore's past, and this lie would be enough to gain his trust.

Hermione continued. "He always stayed in contact with my family after he moved. I think it was his way of holding on to the past. Of course, we knew him growing up... He would visit Godric's Hollow during the summer holidays. Though that, obviously, was before we had to move..."

Dippet's mouth hung open in shock, and after a few moments, he spoke. "Riddle," he said softly, "go."

Riddle took a step forward. "Professor, are you –"

"I said go – _now!"_

Riddle hesitated, as though taken aback, and then inclined his head. "Of course, sir. Just let me know if you need anything."

As soon as he was out the door, Dippet turned back to Hermione and Harry.

"I would appreciate if you didn't mention that around anyone else," he said. "Not that there's anything wrong with it, but I'm sure Dumbledore would not appreciate you broadcasting his past around."

"Certainly, sir," Hermione said. "I just figured it would be okay now... You are headmaster, after all."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, well, that's fine. Can you just tell me what happened that you are so keen on speaking with Professor Dumbledore?"

Hermione racked her brain, trying to come up with a logical explanation. "Well," she said awkwardly.

"It was our parents," Harry said, coming to her rescue. "As you already know, our father was a Muggle-born. Several years ago we had moved from Godric's Hollow to up north. Our parent had found work there, and we became self-taught. Then... we became involved in the war." He put on an anguished face, which Hermione mirrored.

"Our parents were working underground, trying to save some of those captured in the war. We moved all over while they worked, running from town to town... We did this for a while, until they were finally caught. Some of Grindelwald followers found us and managed to capture them." His voice broke and he paused, as though too filled with grief to continue the story.

Hermione marveled at his acting skills. Trying very hard to stick to her part, she continued for him. "We don't know if they were just captured," she said morosely, "or killed for their rebellion. Grindelwald would have taken us, too, but we were able to escape before he could find us. Since then, we've been on the run, trying to find information about our parents. Unfortunately, we haven't had any luck, and now we're having difficulties finding places to stay. We were hoping Professor Dumbledore would be able to help us, or at least give us some information. I know he has been keeping tabs on the war..." She trailed off and the room fell silent for a few moments.

"A touching story," Dippet finally said. "I'm sorry for your loss. Unfortunately, I don't know the specifics of the war, so I cannot help you in that respect. I do know that it's recently become worse, and that is why Dumbledore has just left the school. He took time off to go advice some organization, and I believe he won't be back for another few weeks."

Hermione and Harry exchanged looks.

"However," Dippet continued, "I can give you a place to stay, if you have nowhere else to go. You may both stay at Hogwarts while you are waiting for Dumbledore to return."

She raised an eyebrow. _Stay at Hogwarts? _Though the idea seemed ludicrous, part of her thought there really was no other place to stay. She looked at Harry to see what he thought. He shrugged, apparently having no qualms about the proposal.

"Of course, that poses a problem," Dippet said, thoughtfully. "The only places to sleep in the castle are the dormitories... and only students are allowed in the dormitories..."

"Couldn't you make an exception?" Harry asked.

Dippet looked at them wearily. "Unfortunately, no. The castle won't allow it. We can't have the extra beds made, you see..." He scratched his head. "Unless..."

"Yes?" Hermione pried.

"Unless you were to become students here, for the time being," Dippet said. "Just until Professor Dumbledore returned and you were able to sort out your affairs, anyway. The castle would make room for you and you would have a safe place to stay. Have you finished the traditional seven years of magical education?"

"No; we only completely six," Hermione said truthfully.

Dippet looked pleased. "There you go," he said. "You need to finish your schooling anyway. So what do you say?"

Hermione hesitated and looked to Harry for direction. If they couldn't talk to Dumbledore now, where else would they go to wait? Did they really need Dumbledore's help, or could they find a way back on their own?

Harry seemed to be contemplating the situation also. "I think," he said slowly, "that this is the safest place to be at the moment... and if it means becoming students here, I say it's worth it."

An internal battle was taking place inside Hermione's head. It was so wrong... They would meet so many people; the possibility of changing something was enormous... Yet at the same time she couldn't help but think that this was their only shot... They needed to talk to Dumbledore, and they had no place else to go while they waited... Was this really their only option?

"Well, Hermione?" Harry asked. "What do you think?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. The idea of returning back to Hogwarts was thrilling, after all. To be back at school, learning, studying... why, she could actually graduate, get her NEWTs...

"Okay," she said finally, though a part of her knew she would regret it, "we'll stay."


	6. Code Words

**Author's note: **So it was exactly a speedy update, but I'd say two weeks is a big step up from two months. It would have been quicker, (really, I mean it!), but I rewrote this chapter at least twice. Somehow, I just never seem to be happy with what I come up with. Anywho, thanks again for all the reviews – you guys are awesome!

* * *

Code Words

"Why did you do it, Hermione, _why?_" Ron's voice shook in anger, and as he stared at her, red-faced and glaring, she couldn't help but break down in tears.

"I'm so sorry, Ron!" she cried. "Please, I tried, really, I did... but it was no use..." She covered her face in her hands and shook with grief. Oh why didn't he understand? She wanted anything but this, anything... she would have given her life for his, if only she had had the chance...

Ron continued his rant. "But trying doesn't count, now does it, because I'm dead! I'm dead and gone and it's all your fault..." Angry tears were leaking out his eyes. "You weren't fast enough," he said bitterly.

"No, please..."

"You went for Harry first..."

"Ron, you've got to understand..."

"You chose him over me."

"No, never!"

"I'll never get to live my life now, do you realize that? My whole future is gone, thanks to you." He spat in her face. "I may be dead, but you're dead to _me_, Hermione, do you hear that?"

Hermione's grief had reached a level beyond comprehension and all she could do was sob and gasp for breath, kneeling at his feet, trying to make his understand... to make him forgive her...

"You're dead to me, Hermione..."

_You're dead to me..._

Hermione woke with a start, heart pounding and breathing heavily. As she tried to catch her breath, she realized that she was drenched in sweat... her shirt was clinging uncomfortably to her back and her hair was matted up against her face. She went to push it out of her eyes and discovered that she had been crying; her cheeks were sticky with dried tears.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

_It was only a dream..._

But Merlin, it had been so real, so vivid... She had been able to see every freckle on Ron's face, every tear... And his voice, oh, his voice... it had sounded as though he was really speaking to her; he was really, truly angry with what she had done, and he was never going to forgive her...

And his words echoed in her mind.

_You're dead to me, Hermione._

She shook her head. _It was only a dream..._ She had to keep repeating it to herself or she swore she would go insane with guilt. _But there's no reason to be guilty, Hermione, _she thought to herself sensibly, _because what happened wasn't your fault. You didn't create that explosion, you didn't push Ron into the veil, and he certainly wasn't just blaming you for his death._

Hermione closed her eyes again and waited for her heartbeat to return to normal. After a few minutes she felt her head clear, and the dream suddenly seemed ridiculous. Of course it wasn't her fault. She had tried to help... she had done her best... And if Ron really was gone he wouldn't be blaming her. But he wasn't... he couldn't be... after all, she and Harry were alive, just lost. They were lost, and that meant that Ron must be also.

She checked the time; it was 6:42. _Harry must be up by now_, she thought.

Though it was still dark, they had agreed the night before to meet for an early breakfast. Hermione knew that they would have to meet their classmates eventually, but she had insisted that they at least try and lay low for a while.

With this in mind, Hermione sat up in bed and dried her face on the sleeve of her dressing gown. It was silly, really, now that she thought about it; she was entirely too old to be waking up crying over a stupid nightmare. Having reached this conclusion, she felt worlds better about the dream, though it did nothing to curb the ever-growing feeling of anxiety she was currently experiencing.

Under normal circumstances, she would have attributed these nerves to first-day-of-class jitters. However, she was quite sure that her unease came from the fact that she was over fifty years in the past, and as of yet, had only met two students. Indeed, besides Hagrid and Tom Riddle, she and Harry had not actually _talked_ to anyone yet, and the prospect of meeting everyone was quite daunting.

Now that she thought about it, she and Harry should have hung around the common room yesterday and talked to people, but she couldn't, at the time, bring herself to do so. Instead, after both being sorted into Gryffindor, they had immediately sought refuge in the Room of Requirement. Hermione had thought it best to delay their introduction and, taking Harry's invisibility cloak, spent the better part of the night researching time travel in the library. She had hoped, perhaps a little too optimistically, that the library would hold all of the answers to their problem, and they would be able to leave before creating any more damage to the flow of time. Unfortunately, though, the library had turned out to be quite useless, and Hermione returned to Gryffindor tower empty handed.

At least, she thought cheerfully, no one had still been awake when she returned, thus relieving her temporarily of any awkwardness she might have faced with the other seventh year girls.

And now she was going to avoid them again. She dressed quietly, trying not to wake any of the other girls, and crept down the stairs to the common room.

As she suspected, Harry was already awake; dressed in borrowed robes, he sat sprawled on a couch in front of the fireplace. He looked up at the sound of her approaching footsteps.

"'morning," he said groggily. He eyed her face as she drew nearer. "Had a rough night, too?"

Hermione sat down beside him. "You could say that."

They both sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at the dying embers in the grate before them. Hermione was suddenly reminded of their days talking to Sirius's head through that very same fireplace. Though it seemed so long ago, it technically hadn't happened yet. She shivered.

"Here," she said, pushing those thoughts out of her mind. She took the silvery invisibility cloak from beneath her robes and handed it to Harry. "I have a question."

"Mm?"

"Why did you have this on you yesterday?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I've kept it on me for so long, it felt odd leaving the house without it."

Hermione peered at him closely. "Did you have anything else on you when we... you know...?"

"No." He shook his head. "This was it. I didn't think to bring Hagrid's moleskin pouch with me. I didn't think we'd be needing the map, or the mirror, or anything else at the Ministry... though it would've actually turned out to have been useful."

Hermione's heart sunk in disappointment. He was right; the map would have been _extremely_ useful right now. "Well," she said in a falsely cheerful voice, "at least we don't have to worry about hiding anything except the cloak. I didn't have anything on me either."

"That is true." He grinned. "So are you ready for some breakfast, _sis?_"

She smirked. "Hold on; I wanted to talk to you about something else first."

He cocked his head to one side. "Oh?"

"Well," she paused and chose her words carefully. "I was thinking last night about how dangerous it'll be to talk about... our, err... _predicament_ here. You know, because there are so many people around – anyone could overhear us, and then the news would spread like a wildfire."

Harry nodded. "There's always the Room," he said.

"Yes, that's true," she agreed. The Room of Requirement would come in handy when they wanted to be alone. "But if we're just around the castle talking to each other, like right now, I think we should use some sort of... code. Just to be safe."

"Code?" He raised an eyebrow. "Like spies?"

"Um, not exactly." She moved closer to him and lowered her voice even more, so that it was just above a whisper. "Like instead of using the term – " Here she mouthed the words _the future_. " – we could say, oh I don't know... _the Burrow. _So no one knows what we're talking about."

"We're from the Burrow," Harry tested. He grinned. "Okay, what else d'you have?"

Hermione tapped her chin. "Well," she said thoughtfully, "we could say 'Quidditch' for –" She mouthed _time travel_.

"Brilliant! What about... _You-Know-Who_?"

"Don't you think 'You-Know-Who' will suffice? Or it not ambiguous enough for you?" she quipped.

"Nah." He narrowed his eyes. "We should definitely make it something nastier."

She ignored him. "Now what about the Department of Mysteries? No one can know that we've been there..."

"Shell Cottage?"

"Perfect!" she said. "What else?"

"The veil?" he suggested.

"Hmm... what about _robes?_"

"Robes? We fell through the _robes?_" He stared at her blankly.

"What?" she said defensively. "Is there something wrong with it?"

Harry shrugged. "No, of course not. I mean, who wants to be creative, after all?"

She crossed her arms. "Okay, then... what do you propose we call, oh I don't know..." She grappled for a word incriminating, yet obscure enough to warrant a very odd code word. "_Death Eaters,_" she finally whispered.

"Gernumblies," he said almost automatically.

Hermione choked. "Gernumblies?"

He stretched out his legs and rested his arms behind his head. "Go on," he said smugly, "give me another."

She looked at him carefully for a few moments and then mouthed the word _horcruxes._

"Nargles."

"Time-Turner?"

"Snitch."

"The Unspeakables?"

"Unmentionables!"

They both laughed.

"What?" he asked, chortling. "It works!"

For the first time in a while, Hermione felt her spirits rise. "You know Harry," she said seriously, "I think this is going to work. No one is ever going to figure out what we're talking about when we say 'You-Know-Who and his Gernumblies.'"

He laughed again. "It sounds like a freak-show," he said.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Well, can you think of anything else that we might want to hide?"

"Not really," he replied. "Unless you want to give ourselves codenames; then we'd really be like spies." He grinned playfully.

She smirked. "Somehow, I don't think that's necessary..."

"Necessary, no, but fun, yes." He stretched and stood up. "Well if we're done with the secret words, can we at least go grab something to eat now? I'm starved."

Hermione agreed, and they promptly left the common room, passing carefully through the corridors to make sure they didn't run into anyone.

xxxxxxxxxx

"So," Harry said a few minutes later as they walked down the marble staircase, "Did you read up on _Quidditch_ last night?"

Hermione sighed. "I tried to, but there's hardly anything on the subject. I looked everywhere and only found a handful of books."

"Did you try the restricted section?"

"Of course!" She scowled. "Do you think I'm stupid? I found one of the books there, and it was pointless; it only talked about Snitches, all things I knew about already." She looked around, making sure no one else was in the corridors with them as they walked. "Harry, I have a feeling that no one is going to be able to help us. No one knows much about Quidditch at all; that's why they were studying it in Shell Cottage in the first place."

He frowned. "Don't talk like that. I know our... _situation_... is unique, but Dumbledore is a great wizard. I'm sure he knows more on the subject than the Unmentionables."

"Well what if he doesn't? What if he knows absolutely nothing, and we have no way of getting back to the Burrow? And what about Ron? Do you think we'll ever be able to find him?" The thoughts that had haunted Hermione for the past day finally came spilling out, uncontrolled. She continued with a hint of desperation in her voice. "I'm starting to think that we _can't_ find Ron. I think he's gone somewhere, lost, I don't know. He could be in a different time, he could be here. Even if he was here, though, how would we be able to find him? There are billions of people in the world, and I can't imagine a way to get to him without letting anyone else know!"

"Hermione, I've been thinking about this too," Harry replied, "and I think I have an idea. If we were to find a way back..." He paused. "No, _when _we find a way back, we might be able to manipulate the exact place and time of our return. We could arrive back anytime before the hearing took place and prevent the Gernumblies from escaping; prevent the explosion and prevent losing Ron..." He looked at her excitedly.

She sighed again. "Harry, haven't you learned _anything _about Quidditch by now? We've already changed the Burrow by being here where we're not supposed to be! There is no possible way that everything is going to occur as it should now, and I bet that if we were ever to get back, we wouldn't find everything taking place as it did before. I mean, the odds of the hearing still taking place on the same day, for the same reason are so slim, I can't imagine that plan ever working."

"How do you know Quidditch really works like that?" he asked.

"m'dear boy, if you want to know more about Quidditch, why don't you just ask someone?"

Both Hermione and Harry jumped at the introduction of this new voice. Her heart pounding, Hermione looked around to see who had spoken, and eventually laid her eyes on a particular portrait to their left. It was of a little man, dressed in ill-fitting magenta robes and wearing a revolting wig. He was looking at them expectantly.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, a little taken aback.

The portrait smiled. "I only meant that Quidditch is not a difficult sport, and I do believe it is very popular around this area. If it is that confusing, I'm sure you would only have to ask one of the students here, or perhaps the painting of Barberus Bragge on the sixth floor; even I could tell you a bit, I'm sure. I remember attending a game once, and what was it... a Bludgeon? Yes, yes, that's what it was – a Bludgeon came straight for the crowd; nearly took my right ear off, it did!"

Hermione glanced over at Harry, who obviously trying to suppress a grin.

"Oh yes," the little man continued unabashedly, "it was quite exciting! All those wizards on brooms, flying so fast one could barely see them! I don't exactly remember the purpose of the game, though; to be honest the Bludgeon was the highlight of the experience." He paused, looking pensively.

Hermione had a feeling that if she didn't intervene, he would go on for quite a while longer. Taking advantage of the break in his monologue she said quickly, "um, thanks for your help! We'll definitely ask around. C'mon, Harry, let's go." She took his arm and dragged him away from the portrait, who was still yelling advice.

"I'll take a trip over to Barberus's to let him know you might be visiting!"

"See, Harry?" she hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. "This is why we have to use codes for everything!"

He laughed. "I get it, Hermione," he said. "Now instead of knowing that we're from... _the Burrow_... the portraits of Hogwarts just think we're really bad at Quidditch."

"And what a shame that is," she said sarcastically. "I really – oh!"

They had just reached the doors to the Great Hall, and came face to face with the last person she wanted to see.

"Good morning," Tom Riddle said politely.

Hermione stole a glance at Harry, and saw that, once again, he had resumed a look of utter loathing and disgust. She widened her eyes, as if pleading with him to keep his mouth shut, and then turned to Riddle. "Good morning," she responded stiffly.

His eyes flickered between the pair, and for a moment, seemed surprised. However, in a quick recovery he continued, "I'm sorry I had not properly introduced myself yesterday. My name is Tom Riddle, and I'm Head Boy here at Hogwarts." He smiled pleasantly and extended a hand.

Neither Hermione nor Harry moved. Harry was still glaring at him, while Hermione eyebrows shot up in surprise. Since when did Voldemort apologize, and what would happen if she were to shake his hand? She stared at him stupidly, wondering what to say.

But Riddle didn't give her much longer to think. "Ah, well," he said, sticking both hands deep into his pockets. "I can understand why you might be upset with me; I wasn't exactly hospitable yesterday, was I?" He put on a look of shame. "I was only doing my duty as Head Boy, really. We were told to keep the gates locked at all times, you see, for safety reasons, so I became worried when I saw you with Hagrid. I didn't know, of course, the position you were in." He paused, and stood staring down at his feet, as though he were too embarrassed to look them in the eyes.

Then, to Hermione's horror, Harry spoke. "What's your point?" he spat. "What do you want from us?"

Riddle looked surprised. "Excuse me?"

"That's right," Harry continued. He turned to Hermione. "He wants something out of us; you know that's the only reason he's here right now."

She smiled and said through gritted teeth, "no, of course not. Don't say that, Harry."

He didn't listen. "What is it? Do you want information? Do you want us do something for you? Because if you do, you're going to be sorely disappointed."

"I'm just trying to welcome you to our school." Riddle's voice still sounded cheerful and humble, but his face had turned stony, and there was a strange glint in his eye.

Hermione tried to prevent this conversation from going any further. "See, Harry?" she said. "He's just trying to be nice." She turned to Riddle, and though she'd rather run screaming from Hogwarts than speak to him, said, "I'm sorry. He's probably still exhausted from our... travels." _Oh please don't kill us, please don't kill us,_ she added mentally.

He eyed them carefully for a moment, and then jerked his head in agreement. "Well, if there's anything I help you with in the future, feel free to ask." He nodded curtly in their direction, and departed for the Great Hall.

As soon as the doors closed behind him, Hermione turned to Harry and gave him a slap on the head.

"Ow! What'd you do that for?"

Hermione was breathing heavily and doing a very poor job of controlling her temper. "Because," she said, slapping him again, "you're a complete _arse!_ You just _had _to start something, didn't you? After I told you to leave him alone!"

Harry backed away slowly and held up his hands defensively. "So? He deserved it!" He went on to call Riddle a word so foul that Hermione gasped. "And," he continued, "I didn't break my word. I said I wouldn't touch him. That doesn't mean I can't say whatever I want."

Hermione closed in on him. "Yes it does! Harry, you've got to listen to me: don't say anything to him, _anymore_. I don't care what he's done to you, just don't ruin everything! Do you really want to get on his bad side? Think of what he could do to us!"

"Think of what he's _already_ done to us!"

"I don't care!" she said fiercely. "And besides, he hasn't even done it yet!"

Harry looked at her in shock. "Are you actually _defending _him?"

"No, of course not! He's a horrid, foul person, and I loath him just as much as you, Harry, but I know when to _hold my tongue!_"

He glared at her. "I don't know why we just can't –"

"_No!_" she hissed. "We've already been through this! Whatever you do, just stay away from him; don't talk to him, don't touch him, don't do _anything_! I know it's hard, but please do it for the sake of keeping everything as similar as to what it was before!"

"This is ridiculous."

"Don't give him a reason to hate us."

"You know the only reason he was talking to us right now was because he wanted to use us. It makes me sick to think that he got so much of what he wanted because he was able to act all _charming_ whenever he damn well felt like it."

Hermione sighed. "You don't get it, do you? It doesn't matter what he wants out of us, or how he talks to people he plans to use; what matters is that you ignore this and accept that what happened is out of your control! Just forget about him, okay?"

His eyes darkened. "Hermione," he said in a low voice, "there's no way I'm ever going to forget about him, or what he's done to me." And he stormed off into the Great Hall, leaving Hermione alone and feeling sick to her stomach.

* * *

**Author's note x2: **I don't know if this makes my amount of notes in this chapter a little excessive, but I just wanted to say that I hope their conversation wasn't too confusing with the codes and everything. If it was, don't worry – they probably won't be talking about "Quidditch" too often outside the Room of Requirement. 


	7. Security

**Author's Note: **Yay for an update! Perhaps not as long as some, but I didn't take exactly forever. Once again, this goes without saying: thank you all for the reviews/alerts! I love to see that people are reading!

* * *

Security

Hermione and Harry ate breakfast in a stony silence. She couldn't believe that he had actually been stupid enough to openly attack Riddle. What was he thinking? Not only was he drawing unwanted attention to them both, but he was getting on Riddle's bad side. And seeing as they had already been there once before, Hermione wasn't too keen to get back any time soon.

Not that Hermione wanted to be on Riddle's good side; no, she would never allow herself to do anything that would ever warrant his approval. If she had the choice she would have preferred to lay low, go unnoticed... the less interesting they were, the less likely they were to mess something up. But unfortunately, that looked like it wasn't going to happen now.

Harry was still evidently annoyed at her, too, because he spent the entire meal scowling and occasionally glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the Slytherin table. Every time he'd do so, Hermione would flick her eyes up menacingly and huff impatiently. After he turned around for the fourth time she couldn't take it anymore; grabbing her books, she got up and left without a word.

Not really caring where she went, she left the Great Hall, crossed the Entrance Hall, and left the castle. It was still rather early so the sun hung low in the sky. The grounds were cast in long, dramatic shadows from the castle, and the grass sparkled with dew. Hermione descended the stone steps and stopped before going any further. Overcome with a feeling of uselessness, she sank to her knees and closed her eyes.

She kept picturing the look on Riddle's face when Harry had shouted...it had been awful. Perhaps he didn't explicitly show it, but she knew that he had been really annoyed. The way his eyes flashed and bore down into them... well, it was downright creepy. She was terrified to think what would happen if Harry happened to anger him again.

After sitting there mulling these thoughts over for a few minutes, Hermione heard footstep approach her from behind. Some cleared his throat, and Hermione lifted her head to see Hagrid standing hesitantly beside her.

He looked uncomfortable. "Er, are yeh alrigh'?" he asked awkwardly.

Hermione cleared her throat and stood up. "Oh, yeah," she said. "I was just tired... trying to clear my head, you know, out here for a bit..."

There was a pause. Hermione kept shifting her weight from leg to leg, not knowing if she should excuse herself or stay and talk a bit.

"So I heard yer goin' ter be a student here now," he said.

She nodded. "Just for a while... until Dumbledore gets back and decides what to do with us."

Hagrid nodded also. He looked as though he was on the verge of asking her something. "I talked ter Professor Dippet las' night," he said.

"Oh I hope you didn't get in trouble for letting us in yesterday!"

"Nah, not really. Jus' gave me a warnin.' But he also mentioned you and yer brother."

"Oh?" Hermione wondered what he could've possibly told Hagrid.

"Yeah. He told me 'bout why yeh're here. Asked me ter keep a special watch on the grounds, ter make sure no one came here lookin' for yeh."

For some reason, this surprised Hermione. Perhaps she had underestimated Dippet's level of interest in her and Harry. "Really?"

He nodded importantly. "Yeah, gave the job ter me, special. Can' let anyone in the grounds now; need Professor Dippet's permission firs'. I think he put some kind o' charm on the gates or somethin'."

That stirred something in the back of her mind. "Hagrid," she said suddenly, "can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Why is the security so high at Hogwarts? Before we even got here, I mean. Why were the gates locked in the first place?"

He looked at her like she had two heads. "Well, 'cause o' the war, 'course."

"But," she said impatiently, "isn't the war contained mostly in the north?" She looked at him eagerly.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "No, why would yeh say tha'? I thought Professor Dippet said yeh're involved an' everythin'."

"Well, I was a while ago," she said quickly, trying to sound convincing. "But we've been on the run for a while... haven't read the paper in ages. I honestly have no idea what's going on anywhere."

He peered at her closely. "Yeh don' know anythin' that's been happenin' 'round here?"

"No."

"Nothin' at all?"

She shook her head. "Can you tell me?"

"Well..." he paused, looking pensively. "I s'pose things started getting' bad a couple o' months ago, durin' the summer. Before tha', they say Grindelwald stayed out o' Britain, kept ter his own land. I don' think many even knew wha' was goin' on. I know I didn'"

Hermione nodded; that sounded familiar enough.

Hagrid continued. "Firs' we jus' started ter hear things... stories, rumors. Then back in June were the firs' disappearances. I heard tha' some witches went missin' an' no one ever found them. There were some accidents, too, with Muggles. Magical accidents, if yeh know wha' I mean. Stuff was happenin'; we just didn' know wha', an' most didn' even care yet."

"But," Hermione interrupted, "what happened to make Hogwarts so worried? I mean, the way Riddle and Dippet were acting yesterday, you'd think they were afraid of Grindelwald himself breaking into the school."

He waved his hand impatiently. "Hold on, I'm gettin' there," he said. "No one started ter get worried 'till 'bout a month ago. I was here, yeh know, helpin' get the school ready, when we heard tha' a group o' wizards got inter a Muggle village not far from here. We think tha' they were some o' Grindelwald's men..." A strange look came over his face. "Well, they broke inter houses, set things on fire, tortured the Muggles... even killed a few. After tha' we put up the gates, jus' in case. They were gettin' too close an' too dangerous ter ignore 'em anymore."

Hermione started at him open-mouthed. "Were they caught?" she said quietly. "Did the Ministry get them?"

Hagrid shook his head. "Nah, by the time anyone found out 'bout it, they were gone. We thought tha' maybe they had gone back ter where they came from 'cause they didn' do anythin' else for a while... but then a wizard was killed really close ter Hogwarts. He was found dead 'bout two weeks ago in his home. Now ev'ryone's gettin' real scared."

"But how do you all know Grindelwald's men were behind it? Couldn't it just have been an accident?"

"No, it was Grindelwald, alright..." He lowered his voice. "They found his mark, yeh see. Righ' on the front door, plain as day. No mistakin' tha'."

Hermione's stomach gave a jolt. His mark? What was he talking about? No one ever knew about the sign of the Deathly Hallows... no one around here, anyway.

"His mark?" she asked carefully. Perhaps it was a mistake; maybe Hagrid didn't know what he was talking about.

He nodded. "You know his mark, righ'?"

Hermione didn't say anything.

"Surely, yeh know..." He gave a nervous cough and picked up a nearby twig from the ground. "Look," he said, bending down and drawing a shape in the dirt. First a line... then a triangle around that... and then a circle around the whole thing. The sign of the Deathly Hallows. Hagrid _knew_ the sign of the Deathly Hallows? Unbelievable...

As soon as she got a good look at it, he brushed it away. "Don' want anyone ter see tha'," he said in a low voice. "It's scary," he explained, "'cause ev'rywhere there's been trouble, there's been this mark. It's his signature. Tha's how ev'ryone knows it's been him."

Hermione didn't know what to say. All she could think about was how out of place everything seemed. She could've sworn that Grindelwald had stayed out of this area... it had been in all of the history books. Hadn't he been afraid of getting too near to Dumbledore? And never once did anyone mention the sign of the Deathly Hallows – only a select few around here knew about that. How could Hagrid have heard about it? Better yet, how could he have made it sound like common knowledge? Something like the Dark Mark?

"So yeh see, tha's why we're so scared 'round here. Professor Dippet thinks Grindelwald is goin' ter come ter Hogwarts next... well, he's been movin' in this direction, anyways..."

She shook her head slowly. "I had no idea."

"I guess it's all been happenin' real quick."

"Yeah..." There was an awkward pause.

"Anyway," Hagrid continued. "What I meant ter say before was tha' Professor Dippet wanted me ter keep an eye on you an' Harry. I mean," he stumbled over his words, blushing, "if yeh're ever outside. Jus' let me know an' I'll come out too, jus' in case anythin' happens. If tha's alright with you, I mean."

"Oh, yeah!" Hermione said, slightly surprised. "That's fine, Hagrid." She gave him a smile which he returned.

Hermione checked her watch. "Actually, I've got to go to class now, back inside, you know..."

Hagrid blushed again. "Oh! Yeah, sure, go ahead. Have fun, then."

Hermione looked at him sadly; he was probably so alone – she was sure Dippet, unknowingly, given him the chance to make a friend. Not that Hermione needed this as an excuse to visit Hagrid; assuming she and Harry were stuck in the past for a prolonged period of time, she would certainly try to befriend him once again.

"I'll definitely let you know if I ever decide to take a walk outside. And I'll tell Harry, too," she said kindly. "So I'll see you later, then?"

He smiled broadly. "Yeah, see yeh later!"

Hermione hitched her bag over her shoulder and ran back towards the castle. She had to tell Harry about this right away. Never mind their fight and bout of silent-treatment, what Hagrid had told her was important...

She skidded to a halt in the Entrance Hall and thought to herself for a moment. Their first class, Transfiguration, didn't start for a good ten minutes, but she was sure Harry hadn't stuck around the Great Hall by himself while she had been gone. Figuring that he had gone to wait outside the classroom, she bolted up the stairs and down the second floor corridor.

Just as she suspected, there was a small crowd of students already waiting outside the Transfiguration classroom's door. Hermione slowed as she approached them, and saw that there was some kind of commotion. Everyone was standing in a semicircle and staring in the center, talking excitedly amongst themselves. In the middle stood two boys: a tall Gryffindor with mousy brown hair and glasses, and Harry.

Hermione groaned and inched her way in through the crowd. A couple heads turned her way, but for the most part, everyone's eyes were plastered on Harry.

"Woah," the boy was saying. He stared open-mouthed at Harry. "I didn't know Potter had a twin."

Harry shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gaze of half the class. "Potter? I don't know what you're talking about..." He looked at the class innocently, and caught Hermione's eye. Ever so slightly he made a jerking motion with his head, as though to ask her to come join him. However, she just crossed her arms and stood rooted to the spot. No way was she going up there to be ogled at, too.

Meanwhile, the boy wasn't listening to Harry. He looked around excitedly and said to a girl standing next to him, "wait 'till Potter gets a look at him! Is he here yet?" He stood on tiptoes and gazed over the heads of everyone around him. He raised an arm and yelled out, "Oy! Potter!"

Everyone turned their heads in the direction he was pointing, and the crowd parted to let through the strangest sight Hermione had ever seen.

The boy wasn't joking when he said Potter could have been Harry's twin. Aside from Fred and George Weasley, Hermione had never seen two people look more alike in her life. They had the same face, the same nose, the same build... He was wearing a look of bemusement that seemed so familiar; Hermione could have sworn she'd seen the same exact expression on Harry's face countless times before. True, this new boy was slightly taller, had light grey eyes, and was sporting his hair in a sleek, clean cut, but besides this, they were almost identical.

As Potter stepped up to Harry, the crowd broke into a fit of whispering. It seemed as though neither knew what to say to the other; the other boy was probably confused as ever, while Hermione was sure Harry was trying to think of a convincing story to tell his ancestor.

Finally, someone from the crowd spoke up. "What's your name?" an unidentified voice called.

"Err," Harry cleared his throat. "I'm Harry Wilkins and this," here he walked to the edge of the circle and pulled Hermione into view, "is my sister, Hermione."

"She doesn't look like your sister," the mousy-headed boy observed.

Hermione laughed awkwardly. "Really? Everyone says we look exactly alike..." She turned to the crowd standing behind her. "It's the hair," she said knowingly. "I got our mother's, Harry got our father's."

The shock seemed to be wearing off the Potter boy, because he said to Harry, "Wilkins? Is that right?"

Harry nodded.

"Really...? You look as though you could have some Potter blood in you."

"You think so?" Harry said coolly. "Or perhaps... you look like you could have some _Wilkins_ blood in _you_."

Several people around them snickered.

The boy stared at him curiously for a moment, and then cracked a grin. "I like the way you think," he said, extending a hand. "The name's Potter. Charlus Potter."

Harry grasped his hand. "Nice to meet you, Charlus."

They broke apart and Charlus indicated the mousy-headed Gryffindor. "And this is my good friend Benjamin," he said, grasping him by the shoulder.

Benjamin grinned. "It's Ben," he said. Then he stepped back and gave them both a once over. "Are you sure you're not a Potter? It's just..." He motioned between Harry and Charlus, apparently at loss for words.

Harry just shrugged.

"Who cares what he looks like – why are they here?"

Everyone turned at the introduction of this new voice. A seventh-year Slytherin was pushing her way through the crowd of Gryffindors. She had jet-black hair and a thin, pallid face. "So?" she asked, standing next to Harry with her hands on her hips. "We've never had a new student before. What's the story?"

Hermione and Harry didn't say anything.

"Well?"

"Hey," one of the Gryffindor girls standing near Ben stepped forward. "If they don't want to tell, they don't have to."

The Slytherin gave her a look of absolute disgust. "Who're you to say that, McKinnon?"

The other girl scoffed. "I just happen to be Head Girl this year, Purkiss, if you've forgotten already. Wouldn't surprise me, to be honest."

"Hey, you watch your mouth –"

"No, I'd watch _your_ mouth, seeing as I can take points from Slytherin..."

A bunch of voices rung out from the back of the crowd; apparently the Slytherins were getting annoyed.

Charlus glared at her. "Just shut up –"

"I will not _shut up _–"

"you annoying –"

"piece of _filth_ –"

"slimy-arsed –"

_" – Mudblood!"_

"Woah, woah, QUIET!" A woman's voice rung out above everyone else's arguing. For the third time, the crowd moved apart to let someone through; this time, though, it was not a student. An elderly witch with short, white-blond hair and bright, magenta lips strode briskly across the corridor and stopped in the middle of the semi-circle. The noise of the group immediately extinguished.

The witch stared at everyone open-mouthed.

"I've been gone for two weeks – _two weeks_ – and already you're all behaving like animals?"

No one said a word. The corridor was so quiet one could hear a pin drop.

She let the insult set in for a moment. Narrowing her eyes she turned her attention to everyone in the center of the group, namely, the Slytherin girl, Ben, Charlus, and the Head Girl. "Ten points from Gryffindor and Slytherin, each. I'd expect better from you by now. _Seventh years._" Then she saw Harry and Hermione, cowering off to one side, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Her entire demeanor changed.

"You must be the new students," she said. "Armando told me about you."

Once again, they didn't say anything. To be honest, Hermione didn't know what she could say to this loud woman wearing hot-pink lipstick. She almost reminded her of an old McGonagall, but with attitude. It was quite disconcerting.

She apparently accepted this shock as normal. "My name is Galatea Merrythought," she said. Then she raised her voice. "As I'm sure most of you are aware, Professor Dumbledore had to leave the other day on urgent business. I've been asked to temporarily come out of retirement to fill in for him while he's gone."

Almost everyone broke out into a fit of whispering.

"Yes, I know you're all so _pleased_ to see me again," she continued smartly. "But let me assure you, although Transfiguration is not my particular area of study, I will have you all up to date when Professor Dumbledore returns."

Hermione caught Harry's eye. Though this news didn't seem very significant to her, he seemed to be just as surprised as the rest of the class.

Merrythought gave a loud sigh and tapped the heal of one of her boots impatiently. "Now are you going to stand out here all day or are we going to go inside and actually have an intellectual discussion about the properties of advanced human transfiguration?"

The class immediately began to move forward. Hermione could see that this witch exuded a sense of authority about her, and no one dared disobey what she had to say.

"Come on everyone, hurry up; I may be old but I'm not dead yet."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Before any of you say anything, I realize that having Harry meet one of his ancestors in the past is kind of cliché. I also realize that, although we don't know the exact age of Charlus Potter, he probably graduated from Hogwarts several years before this. But seeing as there's no canon in respect to this character, I decided to use him – and it turns out that I do need him for later chapters. So don't worry; he's going to be more use than just the "omg he looks just like harry!" shock factor... 


	8. A Turn of Events

**Author's note: **Before I say anything else, let me apologize profusely for not responding to any of the reviews for my past chapter. I am so, SO sorry. I feel awful, really, because I know that I like it when I get responses from authors after writing reviews. I don't, I guess I got really busy with schoolwork all of a sudden, and completely forgot to write the responses... and by the time I remembered over a week had gone by and I figured no one cared anymore... SO I'm going to thank you all here, even though I can't really give personal thank yous:

Thank you to pop-pop-bananas, Baby seal, 00jade, Hajnalmadar, -jellyacey-, jeanne, 3rdplanet, blindfaithoperadiva, and last but not least, aGreatPenName! As you all probably know, I really do appreciate the feedback!

Okay, so now that I have that out of the way, let me also apologize (once again) for the long update. You know the routine, schoolwork happened, blah blah blah...

On the upside, I felt quite creative these last few days and have written over half of the next chapter. So expect an update to come much quicker than this one – yay!

* * *

A Turn of Events

Five weeks after their first day of classes, Hermione and Harry sat by themselves at breakfast in the Great Hall. The room wasn't particularly crowded, as it was still very early, and any of the few students present knew to keep their distance from the newcomers.

To be honest, Hermione was glad for the less-than-warm welcome they received from the school. With the exception of about three or four Gryffindors, no one seemed to take a real interest in them. The first day or so Hermione received several wild stares, and was even asked about their arrival, but after that, she and Harry became almost invisible.

Hermione couldn't have been happier about this situation – every day they went to class, kept to themselves, disappeared to the library or the Room of Requirement afterwards, and avoided as many people as possible at mealtimes. Hardly anyone bothered them, questioned what they were doing, or made any attempt to get to know them better. Well, everyone except...

"Hey, guys!"

Hermione groaned. Julie McKinnon, the Head Girl, came bopping over to their place at the table and sat herself down next to Harry.

"Hi, Julie," she replied flatly.

She had to admit, Julie McKinnon was not all that annoying; in fact, had the circumstances been different, she might've actually befriended the girl. But, as Hermione had indicated to Harry early on, she was not very enthusiastic about making new friends here. Julie, on the other hand, felt quite the opposite.

A fellow Gryffindor seventh year, Julie shared Hermione's dormitory, and as such, the two were forced together on more occasions than Hermione would have liked. As she could not sleep in the Room of Requirement every night, (though she would have much preferred that, it would have looked suspicious to the remainder of the Gryffindors), she was forced to interact with the four other seventh year girls daily. For the most part, she only had to endure polite formalities, but Julie was bent on getting to know Hermione – and Harry – as well as she could.

Just as ever, Julie was not catching on to Hermione's obvious lack of enthusiasm. Smiling instead, she turned to Harry and said brightly, "guess what?"

Harry, though not quite as opposed to talking with the students of 1944, kept his distance as well to please Hermione. Slipping into a more detached demeanor, he shrugged. "What?"

Julie looked as if she was about to burst from excitement. "I talked to Professor Merrythought today. She's the temporary head of Gryffindor, you know, while Dumbledore's gone. Anyway, I was talking to her about the Hogsmeade visit coming up, and somehow we got on the subject of you two, and next thing you know, she was signing a permission slip so you guys can come with us!"

Hermione and Harry exchanged looks.

"Wow," Hermione said awkwardly, "that was, um, really nice of you, Julie. You didn't have to do that."

Julie waved her hand nonchalantly. "It was nothing, guys. I thought it would be nice for you to get off the grounds with the rest of us. And Professor Merrythought thought so, too. Actually, I don't think professors are normally allowed to sign permission slips for students, but you know her – she just likes you guys so much, and your situation isn't quite normal and everything..." She trailed off, looking at them expectantly.

"Here you go," she continued, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a piece of parchment. "Your permission slip."

She handed the parchment to Hermione, who took it reluctantly and eyed Harry again. Knowing him he'd probably want to go, but Hermione felt it just wasn't a good idea. So far they had been able to stay away from prying eyes by melting into the background and avoiding crowded areas, but Hogsmeade could be much, much different.

"I don't know..." Hermione started slowly. "I don't think it's a good idea, do you, Harry?"

He frowned, obviously torn between the dual interests of Hermione and himself.

"You know, it might be nice to see the village," he offered after a moment.

Julie's eyes lit up. "Oh yes, you _have_ to go, you just _have to!_ Just think of what you'll be missing! There's Honeyduke's, and the Three Broomsticks... oh you must try the butterbeer there, it's so delicious. And Zonkos, that's always fun. Even just being out in the open; Hogsmeade is so pretty in the fall... And it's almost Halloween so you know everything will be decorated for the occasion..."

"Yeah, that does sound fun," Harry said to Hermione. "Just to get away for a while, you know?"

"Come on, Hermione; take a break from the library or... well, whatever it is you do on a weekend here. Have some fun! Maybe we could have you meet a few new people!" Julie continued.

Hermione swore silently. She was cornered; if she didn't go now, Julie would just keep bothering her the next time a Hogsmeade trip came around, and Harry probably wouldn't let the subject drop either.

She shrugged, defeated. "If you really want to."

Harry and Julie both grinned.

"Awesome," Julie said, getting up from the table. "I'll tell Charlus and Will; we can all hang out and show you around!" And with a smile and a wave she left.

Immediately following that discussion, Hermione groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

"Nice one, Harry," she said, her voice muffled between her fingers.

"I really don't think it matters," he said. "I know you're all gung-ho about staying away from everyone, but the problem is, everyone already knows we're here, even if they haven't really talked to us yet." He leaned forward. "And honestly, I don't think spending an afternoon with them is really going to make much of a difference."

She sighed, but said nothing else in response; Hermione wasn't that keen on getting into another debate with Harry about changing the space-time continuum. At this point the subject was old, and it was certainly not appropriate breakfast-time conversation.

Instead, she just finished her meal in silence, observing the room around her. The tables were beginning to fill up with students by now. Her eyes drifting, she thought it was strange that, even after five weeks, she knew almost no one in the entire hall. Sure, there were a handful of people that she knew by sight, people in her classes that she might have spoken to once or twice. There were three Hufflepuff girls reading the_ Daily Prophet _that she had been forced to work with two weeks ago at a potted plant in Herbology. Then there was a Ravenclaw she sat next to in Arithmancy, talking to someone she recognized from Charms.

And then she saw, sitting by himself at the Slytherin table, Tom Riddle. That was, perhaps, the strangest sight of all. Hermione still found it unbelievable that Voldemort – the younger version of Voldemort, that is – was currently residing in the same building, eating in the same hall, and attending the same classes as Harry and herself. Admittedly, she had by now recovered from the initial shock of the situation, but she still found it rather unnerving to sit so close to him in almost all of her classes.

Luckily, Harry had not approached him after that first encounter, and Hermione had only spoken to him twice, about a Transfiguration assignment. Both times had been brief and curt – only formal cut-and-dry meetings required of the class.

As she finished off her plate and leaned back in her chair, Hermione thought to herself that perhaps, all things considered, life could be worse. Yes, Ron was still missing, and yes, Dumbledore hadn't arrived yet. But no one had, as of yet, seriously bothered them, Riddle was keeping his distance, and Dumbledore should be back very soon. Yes, despite the fact that they were stuck in a completely different time without any idea of how to get back home, things could definitely be worse.

Unfortunately for Hermione, she was completely unaware that this stroke of luck would end, very, very soon.

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The Saturday of the Hogsmeade visit came quickly, only two days after their conversation at breakfast with Julie. The air was charged with excitement, more so than usual because this trip was actually only announced the week before and was quite unexpected. After the Grindelwald scares during the summer, Dippet had barricaded the Hogwarts gates, and to general dismay, postponed all Hogsmeade trips until further notice. Luckily for the students, nothing of importance had happened near Hogwarts, or at all for that matter, and Dippet decided to reinstate Hogsmeade visitations. And so, relishing their new temporary shot at freedom, most students of third year and older noisily made their way down to the Entrance Hall Saturday morning at ten.

Hermione stood as close to Harry as she could get without tripping him while they waited to get checked out of the building by the groundskeeper, Ogg. As it turns out, Hagrid was only an apprentice to the groundskeeper these days.

Speaking of whom, Hagrid was currently making his way through the throng of students, attempting to get everyone to stand in an orderly way while the waited. A pang of guilt struck Hermione's heart as she realized that no one was paying him any attention.

Hermione mentioned this into Harry's ear, and they both tried to move into the hodge-podge line that hadn't really formed ahead of them.

Hagrid was passing by when Harry called out to him. "Hey, Hagrid!" he yelled over the chatter of the group.

Hagrid stopped and looked around for a moment before finding the person who had spoken to him. He walked over and smiled shyly. "Hi," he said awkwardly.

"How are you?" Hermione asked politely.

"Eh, not too bad," he replied, glancing over his shoulder. Two third years were running through the crowd, shrieking obnoxiously. "Hey!" called at them, only to be ignored once again. Defeated, he shrugged and turned back to Harry and Hermione.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade, too?" Harry asked.

Hagrid shook his head. "Nah, I have things ter do, and... well, yeh know..."

"You are allowed to go, though, right?" Hermione asked.

"Well I ain't a student, now am I?"

Hermione frowned. "Still, you should be able to go, I would think. Why don't you take a break for a few hours with the rest of us?"

He hesitated. "I dunno. Do you– "

"Hermione! Harry!"

Just then Julie McKinnon and a few other Gryffindors squeezed their way through the crowd. Hermione recognized them as Julie's friends – some of the people who had tried to befriend her and Harry in the beginning, but stopped after a few unsuccessful tries.

"You remember Charlus, Ben, Will, and Mary, right? Oh! Hi, Hagrid..."

Hagrid looked even more uncomfortable than before. Blushing he mumbled, "er, hi, um, I should be goin' actually... see ya'll later..." Waving goodbye, he slipped back into the crowd.

The group of Gryffindors eyed each other.

"Was he going to come with us?" Ben asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. "He might've."

"I don't think he would've," the other girl, Mary, said. "He likes to stay by himself, that Hagrid. Even before he was expelled he was kind of a loner. I remember we never used to see him around the Gryffindor common room. And then the whole... incident... occurred, and _everyone_ was talking about him, even though he was only a third year! But then the next year we came back and everyone forgot all about him again."

The others nodded their heads. Harry and Hermione raised their eyebrows.

"Maybe if people made an effort to get to know him..." Hermione started awkwardly. Harry stomped on her foot, and narrowing her eyes at him, she shut her mouth.

"Hey look," Harry said, "the uh, line's, moving."

And so it was. They were nearly at Ogg by now, and they all turned their attention to the Hogwarts-free afternoon ahead of them.

"So where do you guys want to go first?" Ben asked as they stepped out onto the grounds.

"Zonko's. Definitely Zonko's," said Will.

"How about the post office?" suggested Mary.

Charlus shook his head. "We should do Honeyduke's."

"Hermione, what do you think?" Julie asked, turning around.

Hermione, who had so far hung back from the rest of the group with Harry, started at the sound of her name.

"What? Oh, um, I don't care. Really, wherever you want to go..."

"No, really, pick somewhere," Will said, while Charlus continued mouthing the word _Honeyduke's _behind his back.

Hermione shrugged. "Um, Honeyduke's?"

"Yes!" Charlus pumped a fist in the air and ran ahead of the rest of the group, leading the way to their destination.

xxxxxxxxxx

Hermione and Harry spent the remainder of the morning with Julie and her friends as they meandered through the shops of Hogsmeade. They stopped at every major destination site the small town had to offer, and Hermione was amused to see that not much had changed from her time, with one exception: as they passed by the edge of town around midmorning, Hermione saw that the Shrieking Shack was not yet the Shrieking Shack; indeed, it was, as of now, only a home belonging to a local farmer.

Around noon, Hermione allowed the Gryffindors to drag her and Harry to the Three Broomsticks for lunch.

"You guys are just going to _love it_. I can't believe you've never been here before!" Julie said, continuing her commentary on all things Hogsmeade-related. "The butterbeer is absolutely amazing!"

"Never mind the butterbeer, how 'bout that firewhisky?" Charlus said.

Ben snorted and Mary slapped his shoulder. "You two are still underage, you know," she said condescendingly.

Hermione and Harry grinned at one another; though they were technically over-age, and had been for over a year, the others couldn't know that.

"Butterbeer it is, then," Harry said to her.

The group finally reached the Three Broomsticks and stepped inside. Though the small pub was crowded with students, Hermione could see a few adults spotted throughout the crowd; there were several shop owners sitting near the door, and, as they passed the bar, Hermione saw three older men enjoying what looked like something extremely toxic.

"Over here!" Julie called from the other side of the room. She and Mary were standing by the only empty table in the room.

Hermione followed Harry and the others to the table and sat down. Ben dragged a few extra chairs over, and Will ordered drinks from the young woman at the bar. A few minutes later they were sipping on butterbeers and chatting about nothing in particular.

"So," Julie said, draining her mug, "what do you guys think so far?"

"It's really nice out here," Harry said, referring to Hogsmeade. Eyes crinkling in amusement, he continued, "you know I wish we came to school at Hogwarts all along, instead of just this one year."

Hermione snorted. Then, something quite unexpected happened.

As she opened her mouth to speak, she simultaneously felt a gust of wind graze her cheek and saw a strange flash of light. Hermione whipped her head around, trying to find the source of the curse, and before she could gather her bearings she heard a high-pitched shriek sound from across the table. In one heart-stopping moment she turned back to face the group of students, and saw Julie McKinnon slumped in her chair, mouth slacked open and lifeless eyes staring out at the horror which was unfolding around her.

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**Author's note: **Before anyone says anything, Hermione is not going to become Head Girl. Sorry, I just had to get that out there.


	9. Dumbledore's Return

**Author's note:** Hurrah for quick updates and longer chapters! Sorry, the next update will probably take longer again... lots of schoolwork coming up... blah, blah, you know the drill. Don't blame me, blame higher education. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and as always, thanks for the reviews!

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Dumbledore's Return

_As she opened her mouth to speak, she simultaneously felt a gust of wind graze her cheek and saw a strange flash of light. Hermione whipped her head around, trying to find the source of the curse, and before she could gather her bearings she heard a high-pitched shriek sound from across the table. In one heart-stopping moment she turned back to face the group of students, and saw Julie McKinnon slumped in her chair, mouth slacked open and lifeless eyes staring out at the horror which was unfolding around her._

xxxxxxxxxx

The next moment someone shrieked, _"no, you idiot!"_ There was a rush of noise from the other side of the room and Hermione, who was still staring in shock at Julie, turned around just in time to see an empty table topple over as the three men at the bar sprinted for the door. At this point, more people realized something was wrong and they got up from their chairs looking around for the source of commotion.

Running and dodging around people and tables, the men were almost at the door when one of them yelled, "wait!" The two in front of them slowed to a halt, one of their hands on the door, ready to leave at a moment's notice. The third man, the one who had spoken, stopped and surveyed the room. No one was moving. Half the room was standing, clutching their mugs with anxiety and turning to one another for direction, while the other half was staring in horror at Hermione's table: with the exception of her and Harry, the entire group was clustered around Julie, trying to revive her. They were using spells, slapping her face, and yet it still hung there limp in Ben's trembling hands. Mary started to sob, her body heaving as she lay clutching Julie's.

Hermione looked at Harry and saw that he was shocked as well. His face had gone stony, and with a look mixed of hatred and determination, he set off slowly for the front of the room, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible as he positioned himself carefully for a good shot at the three men.

Hermione made to prepare herself as well; ever so slowly she slid her arm up her side and grasped her wand. Just as she was sliding it back out of her pocket the silence in the bar was broken; one of the men had yelled another curse and it was hurtled back her way, just missing her head.

At the same time, Harry pushed an elderly witch aside and made for the door, shooting curses at the men as he ran.

A split second later, the men had barged out the door and Hermione started to follow suite. As she and Harry reached the threshold she turned back momentarily and saw that everyone was still cowering in fear, unsure of what to do. She was about to yell to them to get up and help them out, but Harry interrupted her thoughts.

"Hermione! Look!"

She turned her attention back to the street and saw that more men had apparated into Hogsmeade. Though they were wearing no masks, nor did they have any special garb, Hermione knew they were Grindelwald's men. They were all fierce; tall and massive, they had a rugged look about them that suggested they were wilder than many of Voldemort's smooth-working Death Eaters. And they were speaking another tongue; it was harsh and bitter sounding, and although Hermione had never studied a foreign language, she would have guessed it was German or something similar.

A few curious stragglers were leaking out of nearby shops to see what was happening. Almost instantly, Hermione saw that this was a bad idea: the men had started their attack.

They moved without remorse. Curses flew in every direction, bystanders were stunned, and buildings were ransacked. An explosion sounded from somewhere to Hermione's left, obscuring her vision; now the air was filled with dirt and debris.

Hermione ran forward, blindly sending spells at the dark shapes she assumed to be the attacking men. But it was no use; she couldn't see where she was going and didn't want to risk hurting a Hogwarts student or anyone else. People were screaming and an agonizing cry nearby made her jump – a young boy was cradling a bloody arm, his face beat red and stained with tears.

Just beyond where she was standing, two cloaked figures blew up the front of a store and jumped inside, laughing and cheering. Another one ran right past her and, taking aim, Hermione shot a full body bind curse his way. The jet of light hit him right in the back and his body stiffened and fell like a wooden doll to the ground.

Meanwhile, Hermione turned away from the stunned man and ran off, looking for Harry. He had disappeared in the initial chaos of the scene, and now she was worried that he had been caught. As she ran she was able to stun another man while his back was turned.

Hermione reached the other side of the road and ran straight into someone that turned out to be a student she recognized as a seventh year Ravenclaw. He looked positively frightened, and as soon as he regained his balance, he made a beeline for a shop entrance.

She realized in that moment that no one was fighting back. With the exception of a few shopkeepers, most people were fleeing the scene or already lying down hurt. They were greatly outnumbered; with the new arrivals there were probably about ten or fifteen of Grindelwald's men. And there were what, four... five... maybe six people fighting on their side? They needed help... someone needed to know what was happening so they could send reinforcements...

Stooping to escape another curse hurtled her way, Hermione decided to try and alert Hogwarts. It was the closest place, anyway, and she could try using a Patronus.

Though she had read up on the theory, Hermione had never tried communicating with a Patronus before. Ducking into the threshold of a nearby shop, she went over the process quickly in her head. She had never been great at producing her Patronus, especially when under pressure, but now she had no choice. She closed her eyes and concentrated, but instead of focusing all of her energy on a happy memory, she concentrated on the message she wanted to send. She pictured her Patronus reaching Dippet...

_There's been an attack at Hogsmead,_ she thought fiercely. _There's been an attack at Hogsmead. Send reinforcements._

And then, when she felt she couldn't concentrate any harder, she yelled, "_Expecto Patronum!"_

A huge silvery otter burst forth from her wand and lingered for a moment before turning on the spot and disappearing into itself. Hermione let out a momentarily sigh of relief; perhaps it had worked, after all.

She then turned back to the commotion in the street and saw that most of the debris had cleared – she could now see everyone clearly. The fifteen or so men were still causing havoc; smashing store fronts and torturing bystanders, they obviously weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

Hermione ran forth and sent a curse at someone torturing a storeowner. It missed but he stopped the spell anyway and turned in Hermione's direction. He retaliated with another curse that Hermione just narrowly escaped.

"_Confringo_!" she called, aiming above his head.

The jet of light hit just where she wanted; a protrusion of stone and wood knocked loose from a storefront in an earlier explosion cracked off from the rest of the wall and hit the man directly on the head, knocking him out.

"Hermione!"

She spun around at the sound of her voice. Finally, she saw Harry in a vicious and fast-paced duel with one of the men. He was looking at her frantically. "Watch out!" he called.

As soon as he said it, though, Hermione felt the wind being knocked out of her, as if she had receive a blow to the stomach. Crouching down on the stone and trying to catch her breath she saw the man try another spell but she rolled out of the way just in time.

In another second she was up on her feet and dueling this man. Just as fast-paced and intense as Harry's fight, she sending and blocking curses so quickly that her arm began to ache. The man was getting tired, too, and Hermione capitalized on this by running around him, making the duel pan out in a large circle. As she was moving someone else crossed her path and she stretched out a leg, tripping him. Just after sending another stunning spell at her opponent she backtracked and stamped on the other man's face, breaking his nose and producing a puddle of blood around his head.

Now Harry was dueling two men at once and Hermione rushed over to help, but the man she had been dueling followed. Before she knew it, the five of them were dueling all together, none of them refusing to give in. Hermione was extremely tired by now, and she could tell that Harry was slowing also, but neither of them stopped. The men they were fighting were huge – tall and wide, Hermione thought that she would never be able to take them down...

But then the unthinkable happened: the men began to give in. One by one, starting from the other end of village, they began to shout, yelling at the others that this was it; it was time to head back home. The men still fighting fled from their opponents, grabbed hold of any of their stunned comrades, and disapparated. In what seemed like only a moment, the scene of chaos had completely disappeared.

Hermione sunk to the ground, out of breath and sore from the fight. She looked wearily back up at Harry and saw that he was still standing. Then, he raised a trembling arm and pointed down the street towards the Hogsmeade entrance. Hermione turned her head that way too, and saw the reason why all the men had left at once.

A tall, striking figure stood silhouetted against the hazy air. He moved through the wreckage quickly, surveying the damage, and as he came closer to where they were positioned his facial features came into view.

It was Dumbledore. Hermione thought she should feel relieved that he was finally here but quite honestly, she was too tired to care.

Everything that happened after that point was a blur. She heard Dumbledore talking to some people, then some school officials showed up and students were escorted back to the school. During the commotion of everything, Mediwitches from St. Mungo's apparated in and removed Julie's body from the Three Broomsticks. Hermione remembered feeling sick to her stomach as she watched the body being disapparated, the students still lingering in the street sobbing for their lost friend.

Then she remembered being led back into the school with Harry and brought to the Hospital Wing, where about a dozen other students lay moaning in pain, though not seriously injured. The school nurse, a young witch Hermione didn't recognize, came bustling over in a frenzy and handed them both potions before running off again.

"Hermione," Harry said hoarsely, eyeing his cup warily, "what happened out there?"

She shook her head. "I don't know." She paused, and motioned for him to move away with her from the rest of the students.

"Harry," she continued as soon as they were out of earshot from the rest of the room, "something wrong happened today – something _extremely_ wrong."

"Obviously," he said, motioning to the other students in the room.

She waved her hand impatiently. "No. I mean this _wasn't supposed to happen_." She stared at him, waiting for a reaction.

His eyes widened. "Oh. How do you know?"

She lowered her voice. "After the whole episode with Cedric and the Triwizard Tournament happened in fourth year I went through some records in the school library. I don't know why, but I wanted to see exactly how many students had died at Hogwarts in recent years. There were two in the past hundred years, not counting Cedric, of course, because that only just happened. _Two, _Harry, not three. They were Moaning Myrtle and the student who died during the last Triwizard Tournament. Nobody died after that."

"...oh"

Now that the initial shock of the situation had worn off, Hermione could feel herself becoming frantic. "Oh, this is so bad; so, so bad... I can't believe it. We've changed _something_, Harry, we must have. And look what happened." She felt as though she had a weight sitting in the pit of her stomach.

Harry looked miserable. "You were right," he said. "I didn't believe you before, no matter what you said. I seriously didn't think we could change anything, but you were right about everything."

Hermione sighed in frustration. The fact that she had been right all along gave her no consolation whatsoever. She knew coming to Hogwarts was a bad idea – she should have put her foot down in the first place and insisted on hiding out. They could have found a tent and camped out somewhere like they did all last year; that way they wouldn't have had to talk to anyone or influence any change in events.

As the two of them sat in silence, Hermione contemplating all the mistakes they made, the door to the Hospital Wing opened and someone walked inside.

"Excuse me," the wizard said to the Mediwitch, "I was wondering if I could have a quick word with two of my close friends."

He turned around and Hermione saw it was Dumbledore. She didn't know whether to feel more relieved or apprehensive: although they might actually be able to get help now finding a way home, the cat was certainly out of the bag and to be honest, Hermione found this a little daunting.

Hermione looked at Harry, who nodded and led the way across the room.

"Harry. Hermione," he said shaking each of their hands. "Would you mind stepping out with me for a moment? I know Professor Dippet was looking for you, but if it's alright, I would like a word first."

"Sure," Harry said, and they both followed him out of the hospital wing and into the nearest empty classroom. As soon as they were inside Dumbledore closed and locked the door.

"So," he said seriously, surveying them closely, "would you care to remind me how I came into the good fortune of having such outstanding young friends as yourselves?"

"It's a long story, sir," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded his head slowly. Hermione could see that he was clearly worried, and with good reason. Though much younger-looking than she remembered, his thick auburn hair lay limp against his face and his eyes had a haunted look about them that showed experience way beyond his years.

"Despite the current state of affairs," he continued slowly, "I think it might be prudent to hear what you have to say. Hopefully this may help make sense of some of what happened today."

Hermione glanced at Harry and, taking a deep breath said, "all right." She paused, unsure of how to begin.

"How familiar are you with the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked him.

Dumbledore looked taken aback. "The Department of Mysteries? Good gracious, only a little, and that's more than most people. Why do you ask?"

"Well," Harry said, "do you know of the room they call the 'Death Chamber?'"

He blinked a few times, but said nothing.

"It's the room with the stone archway," Harry continued.

"Yes, yes, I've heard of it."

"Do you know what it does?" Hermione asked.

He hesitated. "Pardon me for asking, but why is this significant?"

Hermione and Harry eyed each other.

"Believe me," Harry said, "it's important."

Dumbledore sighed and moved to sit in the nearest desk. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at bit unsure of himself. "As I said before, I'm only slightly aware of the activities within the Department of Mysteries. The research that occurs there is confidential; most Ministry of Magic employees don't even know what's behind that door. The only reason why I'm more knowledgeable about this is because I was once offered the position of Minister of Magic... Before I turned it down I was quite the insider, you know, and had access to information that most did not." He paused, looking pensively. "If I recall correctly, the Death Chamber is called the 'Death Chamber' for a reason. The Unspeakables believe that stone archway is very closely connected with death."

"Have you ever heard of anyone going through the veil and coming back out alive?" Hermione asked.

"No, of course not," he replied gravely. "There have been those foolish enough to try, but none have ever returned."

Hermione felt her heart sink. _There must be a way back through_, she thought to herself, _they just haven't found it yet..._

"What would you say," Harry said slowly, "if I told you that we've been through the veil?"

Dumbledore sat up straight. "What? That's impossible."

"No, its not." Harry looked at him seriously. "People have gone through before; they just haven't come back out."

He let that sink in for a moment. Dumbledore looked utterly confused.

"I'm sorry; I don't follow you. Are you saying that you two have... _passed through _the veil from... the other side?"

"Not exactly," Hermione said. "We were in the Ministry, and... some things happened, and we ended up in the Department of Mysteries. We were in that room and kind of... fell. Right into the veil. And when we came out, we were in this field, but we were able to apparate to Diagon Alley and then to Hogsmeade..."

"And then you came here," Dumbledore said.

Hermione nodded. "Yes..."

"So the veil transported you elsewhere?"

"Well... yes, and no..." Hermione said nervously.

"The thing is," Harry said, "when we fell through the veil, the year was 1997."

Dumbledore opened his mouth, and then closed it again. After a few awkward moments of silence he said, "You mean to tell me that the veil transported you both through time?"

"Yes," they said in unison.

Dumbledore looked at them carefully, but said nothing.

"You don't believe us," Hermione blurted out. She turned to Harry. "I told you; this sounds completely ludicrous... no one is going to be able to help us..."

"Did I say I didn't believe you?" Dumbledore interrupted quietly.

"No... wait – what?" Hermione looked up sharply.

"You _do_ believe us?" Harry asked him.

Dumbledore pursed his lips and folded his hands in front of him. "I don't think I have any other choice," he said. "I can see you're not lying. How else would you know so much about the Department of Mysteries? That's not something you can easily lie about." He paused. "It might also explain how you seemed to know me, and how you were able to fight so spectacularly today."

Hermione felt her face flush; she immediately regretted gossiping about Dumbledore in front of Dippet and Riddle. "I'm sorry we said those things about you to Professor Dippet, sir," she apologized. "It was uncalled for; it was completely your business..." She hung her head, unable to look Dumbledore in the eyes.

Dumbledore held up his hand. "That's quite alright – I understand. I was only curious as to how two young strangers came to know so much about my past. What happened to my family years ago is not common knowledge. I'm assuming, then, that we eventually know one another in the future?"

"Yes... but that's all we can say, obviously..."

"Oh yes. I would never ask such information of you. Even the fact that you're from the future should be kept confidential; I would not recommend spreading this around at all. Did you tell anyone else about what happened?"

"No," said Harry. "We wanted to tell you first."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good. Don't tell anyone else about this; keep playing up the story you told Dippet. I'm afraid you'll probably have to stay here for a while now; even if you were planning to go elsewhere, we're locking down the entire school. Right now there is no way in or out of the grounds, and I fear this will be the case for a while. So, I would think its best to keep the cover you've already created until something can be done about your situation."

They both nodded.

"Professor," Harry said tentatively, "will you be able to help us get back home? I know it's impossible to go anywhere just now, but if you could – when you get the time – can you look into it? We figured if anyone knows about time-travel it would be you..."

"Honestly," Dumbledore said, "I don't know if I'll be able to do much of anything. Time-travel is so poorly understood, and I am, by no means, an expert on the subject." He sighed. "Do _you_ know exactly how time is manipulated in that room?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. We didn't even know the veil transported you through time. We assumed, oh I don't know, that it was some kind of _literal veil_ through to the other side. To the_ Land of the Dead_, or something of the sort. We were quite surprised when we ended up in a field somewhere, very much alive."

"I see. Well then I don't know if any of the Unspeakables will know anymore about this than you do."

Hermione and Harry glanced at each other nervously.

"But," Dumbledore continued, "I'll see what I can do. There must be some way to figure this out... and we can't have you stuck here forever. I might look into this matter myself, first, and if I can't get anywhere I'll go to someone else. I know there are several people around who have been interested in studying time-travel; and if that doesn't work we could always try the Department of Mysteries. I would prefer to keep this secrete between the three of us, though, so I will probably hold off on contacting the Department of Mysteries. The less people that know about this, the better."

"Thank you so much, Professor," Harry said. "It really means a lot to us; we wouldn't know what to do otherwise."

Dumbledore smiled. "It's nothing, especially after what you two did today. To take the initiative like that and fight those men... It was very stupid, to be honest, but also very brave, and we're all grateful you did something. If you hadn't acted I'm afraid the casualties would have been worse." He turned to Hermione. "I'm assuming that was your Patronus we saw at the school?"

She nodded.

"It was astounding; I've never seen anything like it. How did you manage to send along the message?"

Hermione was confused. "Don't you know how to do that? I thought you invented how to..." she trailed off, realization dawning on her.

His eyes crinkled in a grin. "Perhaps, Miss Wilkins, I was only able to invent that spell because _you_ came back in time and taught it to me."

Harry chuckled.

"At any rate, I'm sure that variation on the Patronus charm will come in handy, if you ever feel so inclined to teach me. It's already been helpful; why, if you didn't send that message, I'm sure that we would have arrived too late. In fact, I think Professor Dippet wanted to thank you himself..." He got up from his desk. "I believe everything is sorted, then? I'll try to help you as soon as I get the chance, and in the meantime you'll just have to sit tight. If you don't mind, I really should be going; there's much to be done now..."

As Dumbledore crossed the room and laid a hand on the doorknob, a thought struck Hermione. "Professor!" she called out.

He turned back to face them. "Yes, Miss Wilkins?"

"Well," she began, "I've thought of something else. You see, when we fell through the veil, we had a friend with us. He disappeared first, actually, and when we ended up here we couldn't find him. So, I was wondering if there was any way to try and find him, or maybe you could look into it when you try to find a way back for us..."

He smiled. "I'll see what I can do." He opened the door and was about to step out when he paused and said, "Would you both mind terribly if you went back to the Hospital Wing for a while? I believe Professor Dippet will be looking for you; he'll probably want to know what exactly happened out there today." And with a quick wink, he turned on his heel and left.


	10. Meeting with Dippet

**Author's note:** Hopefully, this will be the last time that an update will take forever to come. I couldn't start working on this chapter until just recently because finals got in the way (blegh). But now school's ended, I'm back home, and I have a lot of free time on my hands, so I plan to get pretty far into the story this summer. Hurrah! Anyway, thank you again for the reviews/alerts. They make me happy!

* * *

Meeting with Dippet

As soon as the door closed, Hermione moved to a desk and buried her head in her hands. "Oh Harry," her voice came out muffled through her palms, "what are we going to do?" She shifted her fingers and saw Harry pacing back and forth.

"I don't know, Hermione. I wish I did..."

"Well, maybe if we did manage to sneak into the Ministry, they might have notes on the veil locked up somewhere..." she began recklessly, "if we could find them we could learn to get back ourselves..."

Harry crossed his arms. "Yeah? And how are we going to get out of here? You heard Dumbledore; the gates are locked. It's too late now... we'll just have to wait."

Hermione sat up and looked at him quietly. "You're right," she said finally, coming to her senses. "There's nothing we can do. I just... hate having to wait so long. I want to get out of here, find Ron, and go back home. I feel so useless, just sitting around, doing nothing..."

Harry nodded, and she knew he understood.

"Well, I guess we should get out of here," she continued. "Dumbledore said we'll have to speak with Dippet. I daresay he'll want to know everything that happened."

"I suppose."

Leaving the classroom, they didn't have to wait long to find Dippet. A few moments later they almost ran into him turning a corner on the way back to the Hospital Wing.

He jumped. "Goodness! Oh there you two are. I was just looking for you." He looked positively shaken, and Hermione felt sorry for him, having to deal with this whole mess.

"Yes, sir?" she asked.

. "Would you mind running up to my office for a few moments? I'd like to have a word with you, but I can't this moment..." He looked around distractedly.

They nodded.

Mopping his brow, he continued. "Yes, well, run along then. I'll be over in a few minutes... I have to take care of a few things first... talk to a few people... Do you know where my office is? Good. I have someone at the entrance. They'll let you in." He then nodded in their direction and then turned away.

Harry shrugged, apparently not surprised at Dippet's behavior either. "Shall we, then?"

And together, they made their way to the Headmaster's office.

Just as they were reaching their destination, though, they turned the corner and stopped. There, standing by the gargoyle marking the entrance to the headmaster's office, was Tom Riddle. Hermione sighed; she should have known.

"Harry..." she warned under her breath.

He narrowed his eyes but nodded and said nothing as they reached the gargoyle.

Riddle was standing stiff against the wall, eyeing them like a hawk. As usual, Hermione found his stare quite off-putting, and she had half a mind to go running in the opposite direction.

"...yes?"

Holding her head high and taking a deep breath Hermione said, "we were sent here by Professor Dippet."

He cocked his head to one side, his gaze burning into the back of her skull. Hermione briefly wondered if he was performing Legilimency.

"Why would he want _you_ here?" he finally said.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I don't know," she said stiffly. "Perhaps he wanted to speak with us about the Grindelwald attack?" She made an active attempt to stay composed and pleasant, but he was trying her already shortened patience.

Riddle continued staring at them, as though he could see through her skin to the very innards of her soul. Hermione began to awkwardly fidget. _Is this all he does? Stare at people until they crack?_

Finally, he gave them a curt nod and spoke the password. Both Harry and Hermione kept a close watch on him the entire time they crossed the threshold onto the staircase, and only after the gargoyle moved back to guard the entrance did they turn their backs.

"I guess he's officially stopped pretending to be nice to us," Hermione offered after a few moments.

Harry didn't respond.

After a few moments they reached the top of the staircase. Opening the door, Hermione saw that Dippet's office was _packed._ People were standing everywhere, talking and whispering to one another nervously. Every single one of them had a look of apprehension and confusion plastered upon their face, and several of them looked up at the entrance of the newcomers.

At first, Hermione didn't know where to stand. She assumed that everyone in the room was a professor or staff member, and after realizing that in no way did Hogwarts ever house that many staff, she saw a large group of terrified looking students standing against the far wall.

She motioned to Harry to follow her, and together they made their way through the crowd. As they approached the students, she realized that they all had a large, shiny prefect badge attached to their chest. Hermione didn't know any prefects here, but she did recognize one as a Gryffindor fifth year, and made to stand by him.

"Hey," she whispered, nudging him in the side, "do you know what's going on? Why are we all here?"

He shook his head. "I dunno. No one knows what's going on. As soon as we were taken back to the castle the professors started making announcements that all prefects should come up here. That was about a half hour ago, I guess, and nothing's happened since." He looked at her oddly. "Why are _you _here? You're not a prefect."

Hermione sighed. "I was just wondering the same thing."

As the boy turned away, Harry tugged on her sleeve to grab her attention. "Look," he said, indicating some point on the opposite side of the room. There, Hermione saw a nervous-looking Hagrid standing next to Ogg.

Hermione gave a small smile. "At least he wasn't excluded."

"Well he _is_ staff."

She nodded. "True..."

Standing next to Hagrid and Ogg were Professors Slughorn and Merrythought. They were talking quietly to themselves, and as Hermione continued staring, Slughorn looked up in her direction. Embarrassed, Hermione turned away quickly, but not before she saw a strange look cross over Slughorn's features.

A few minutes later, the door to Dippet's office opened again and Hermione, like most everyone else around her, turned her head in that direction. She thought it would be Dippet, however, in walked little Professor Flitwick, Dumbledore, and Riddle.

Hermione smiled again; besides Slughorn and Dumbledore, Flitwick was the only professor she recognized from her time at Hogwarts. Being in his class was very amusing; though the lesson styles very vaguely familiar, Hermione saw few physical resemblances between this Flitwick and the one she had grown up with. Yes, he was still just as short, but he was so much younger, and his round face was sporting a rather large and voluminous dark brown beard. She guessed that he couldn't have been teaching at Hogwarts for more than a few years.

Hermione's gaze followed him as he continued his way through the crowd and stopped by a professor she didn't recognize. He was immensely old, and Hermione had only seen him come to dinner occasionally. Perhaps he was the Divination professor, and stayed up in his tower all day like Trelawney. If that was the case, he was much too old to be climbing up and down seven flights of stairs all the time. That would explain his elusiveness, anyway...

Then, as if she received a blow to the head, Hermione suddenly realized who this mysterious professor was.

"_Harry!_" she hissed excitedly. "It's Binns! _Professor Binns!_"

As Harry looked to where she was pointing, his jaw dropped.

"Merlin... Binns..."

No wonder why she hadn't recognized him before – she was so used to staring blankly at his pearly-white ghost during class that she would never associate him with a real, live, human being. And of course she wasn't taking History of Magic here, so she wouldn't have heard his name before, especially if he never showed up for dinner.

Finally, the door opened a third time, and this time Dippet strode through. The ambient noise stopped immediately, and everyone seemed to hold their breath as he took his spot behind his desk. "Thank you all for coming," he said in a tired voice. "I know you'll all want to get back to your friends during this stressful time, but if you'll just give me a few minutes..."

"Is it true, then?" Merrythought asked sharply. "Has the McKinnon girl...?"

Dippet looked at her sadly and then nodded.

Everyone in the room seemed to gasp at once; apparently, in all the chaos of the afternoon, few had known for sure what had happened to Julie.

Dippet held up his tiny hands. "Please, everyone," he said, "I have everything under control. Or... at least as under control as possible at the moment. I've contacted Ministry officials, and they are in Hogsmeade attending to all the damage. They've escorted the few who have been critically injured to St. Mungo's and put up protective wards around the village... Meanwhile, I've made sure all Hogwarts students are back in the castle. All those who are not injured and in the hospital wing are waiting in their common rooms for direction from their Head of House."

Slughorn stepped forward. "Would you like us to go there now?"

"No," Dippet said, shaking his head. "I have some more things to cover here, and then you may attend to your students.

"For those who have not heard yet, I have also closed all the school entrances. We are currently locked down. No one is getting in or out, including the Ministry. I suspect that will pose a problem tomorrow morning when parents start arriving to pick up their children, but they'll just have to wait; depending on the situation, I may decide to keep the wards up for several weeks."

Hermione turned to Harry and raised her eyebrows. '_Several weeks?'_ she mouthed. Harry also looked extremely nervous at this news. If all travel in and out of the school was closed for several weeks, then Dumbledore might not be able to even begin helping them until December... and even then he probably wouldn't find anything for a while. They could be stuck here for months...

"Wait a minute," a professor Hermione didn't know interrupted from the crowd. "Are you saying that we're _closing_ the school?"

Dippet frowned. "Of course not. We're not dealing with a situation like that of two years ago... No, the danger is not in the school; rather, it is outside. I was merely commenting on the fact that with another death of a student, many parents will probably want their child home with them. They'll think it's safer there. Naturally, they're wrong. We have more wards here than perhaps anywhere in Britain. I'll have to owl everyone to explain the situation..."

At that point, none other than Tom Riddle stepped forward. Hermione felt a twinge of annoyance as he began to speak. "Sir, excuse me for asking, but what exactly _is_ the situation? I know it may not be my business, but I'm sure many of the professors do not know the details of today's attack... if you could only recount what happened..." he trailed off, looking at Dippet innocently.

"Thank you, Tom," he said. "I was just getting to that. Unfortunately, though, I was not present at Hogsmeade today, and only after we received a peculiar message did Professor Dumbledore rush to the scene." He turned to Dumbledore. "Would you care to take over from here?"

He nodded. "Surely, though I have little to tell as well. I was here, actually, in this room with Armando around one o'clock this afternoon when, quite suddenly, a Patronus materialized out of nowhere."

Though this didn't seem to penetrate the prefects, the professors all seemed confused.

"Let me emphasize that this Patronus was neither mine, nor Armando's."

"What?" a professor asked sharply. "Was someone else in the room?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. It was unlike any Patronus I had ever seen... most notably because it spoke."

At this, the professors began talking amongst themselves.

"What?"

"That's impossible, surely a Patronus cannot speak..."

"It must not have been a Patronus, then?"

"Of course it was a Patronus," Dumbledore said loudly over everyone else. "Do you not trust my ability to spot the difference between magical apparitions?" He eyed everyone in the room and one by one, the professors all quieted down. Meanwhile, the students simply stared blankly at one another. This made Hermione certain that they had no idea what a Patronus was in the first place.

"As I was saying, the Patronus, in the form of an otter, spoke to us. It said, in the voice of a young girl, that there had been an attack in Hogsmeade, and that help was needed. Will you confirm this, Professor Dippet?"

Dippet nodded. "Of course, Albus."

"Immediately afterwards, I rushed to Hogsmeade, while Armando began contacting the Ministry. I arrived at the scene no more than five minutes later, and indeed, there was a large group of men causing a significant amount of chaos. Before I could do anything, though, they all Disapparated. I believe you all know the rest. Except..." he paused for a moment as his eyes scanned the group of students. "I did find out that the Patronus belonged to Miss Hermione Wilkins."

Once again, the crowd erupted into chatter. Hermione heard things like, "impossible!" and "but she's just a student!" and before she knew it, hands were pushing her forward, to the front of the room. She felt extremely exposed, standing there, with all eyes on her. Her hands began to sweat and she was sure her face was a brilliant shade of red. What did they expect out of her, to explain the theories behind Patronus communication? Wasn't that a bit off topic? They should be deciding what to do with the students, not stare at her like she was some circus show freak. Her eyes sought out Harry for help, but it was useless; she was on her own now.

"Well, Miss Wilkins?" Dippet leaned forward in his desk and peered at her intently. "What happened out there?"

So they didn't just want to hear about the Patronus. She could do this.

Hermione coughed. "Well," she began in a small voice, "we were having lunch at the Three Broomsticks... When I say 'we' I mean my brother, Harry, and a few other Gryffindors, including Julie McKinnon..." She looked at Harry again, and this time he was pushed to the front of the crowd. Everyone stared at him for a moment before turning back to Hermione.

Her face, if possible, turned even redder. "Yes, um... so we were in the Three Broomsticks, when I saw, er... a flash of green light. And the next thing I knew, Julie was slumped in her chair, er..."

"Yes, yes, we know," Dippet interrupted. "Then what happened?"

"Well, we saw three older men, who had been sitting at the bar, run for the door, and Harry and I followed them. When we got out in the street there were more of them. I'd say there were, oh, maybe fifteen of them altogether?" She looked at Harry and he nodded in agreement.

"Right, well, the whole group of them, they were causing complete havoc. They were destroying property, attacking students... and no one was able to fight back, really. Harry and I tried to help, but..."

"Professor Dumbledore said that you were dueling two of them when he arrived. Is that not true?" Dippet asked.

"Well yes, we were, but we weren't really getting anywhere. Before that, though, I did send the Patronus. It was something that, er, I've taught myself over the years..."

"Really, Miss Wilkins?" Slughorn said excitedly. "You can communicate with a Patronus?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

He beamed. "Amazing. And your brother?"

"Er," she paused. Harry had never tried it before. Merlin, _she _had never tried it before today. Hoping that he would be able to if asked, she said, "yes."

Slughorn looked delighted. "Wonderful! Imagine the possibilities this could hold! This could take magical communication to a whole new level! Miss Wilkins, can you do it again, so we can all see?"

Before she could respond, Tom Riddle spoke quietly to Slughorn. "Professor, isn't this getting off topic? We really should be attending to the current crisis at hand..."

Though Hermione secretly agreed with him, she felt more annoyed than anything. Who was _he_ to tell a professor what to do?

"Now Tom," Slughorn said kindly, "this could be very important." He turned to Dippet. "Do you not agree, Headmaster?"

"Of course," Dippet said. "Miss Wilkins, if you would...?"

Hermione blushed again and stared at the floor. "Right," she said quietly. Having done it only once before, could she do it again? She closed her eyes and pretended that she was back in Hogsmeade. This was urgent, she needed to contact someone... Going through the same process as before, she pictured Dippet and concentrated hard. _There's been an attack in Hogsmeade, there's been an attack in Hogsmeade..._

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

A brilliant white light burst forth from her wand and materialized into the shape of an otter. Everyone watched as it swam through the air, almost playfully, and stopped in front of Dippet's desk. It turned to him and said in Hermione's worried voice, "There's been an attack in Hogsmeade..."

Hermione felt her insides swell with pride. She could do it... she was getting the hang of this, finally... Across the room, Slughorn, like almost everyone else, was staring at the Patronus in wonder.

"Astounding," Slughorn said as the otter vanished. "You must show us how to do this."

"Yes, I was thinking exactly the same thing," said Dippet. "Only, I'd like to... _expand_ on this, if you will. Imagine how useful this charm will be – instant communication! Why, if anything ever goes wrong again, the proper people can be alerted immediately. Just think of how much _more_ damage could have occurred today if Wilkins didn't contact the school. Apparition into Hogwarts was not a possibility, of course, so by the time someone ran to the school and brought back Dumbledore, more people could have been killed or injured. By using this form of communication, transportation time was cut in half.

"But _think_. Let's take it a step further. What if everyone who had been in Hogwarts today knew how to properly defend themselves? What if they had all fought back, just as Harry and Hermione had? Maybe, _just maybe_, we could have caught some of those men! We could have prevented needless injuries! Why..."

"Are you suggesting," Merrythought interrupted sharply, "that we send our students into _combat?_"

Dippet waved his hands impatiently. "No, no, of course not. I wouldn't expect that out of ordinary students, especially the younger ones. No, what I'm proposing is that we prepare our more advanced students to defend themselves, in case anything like this were to ever happen again."

"Isn't that the point of Defense Against the Dark Arts classes?"

"No – " Dippet stopped suddenly, and turned bright red at the look that Plunkett, the new Defense professor, was giving him. "What I mean," he continued more slowly, "is that students are prepared in class, but, excuse me for saying this, it's mostly theory, and even when it _is_ practical, students don't take the material seriously.

"What I want to do is have all the students in this room learn proper, practical defense, so they are ready to defend themselves and their classmates in the case of a future attack. I think it would be immensely productive if they were to learn from one another, and from their professors. We all have certain abilities in this area, so if we all combine our knowledge we could really get somewhere! Everyone, including the professors, could learn so much from this... think of what even just the Wilkins siblings could teach us..."

Everyone in the room seemed to be both surprised and puzzled at this news.

"Are you saying," a professor spoke up, "that everyone will learn from everyone else? Professors will learn from students and other professors? Students from one another and their professors as well?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying. What do you think?"

Dumbledore stepped forward again. "Personally, I think it is a brilliant idea. Everyone in this room is extremely intelligent, and we could all learn a great deal from one another."

Dippet clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! If no one has any objections then I'd like to start meeting as soon as possible. Also, on a slightly different note," he paused for a moment, thinking to himself. "Everyone here already has their normal watch-duty schedule, but starting tomorrow I think I will assign everyone more hours..."

Though no one said a thing, Hermione could practically see all the prefects groaning.

"I'd like to have more people on duty at a time, and to be safe, I'll have you all work in pairs..." He paused again. "Harry and Hermione," he said, turning to look at them, "would you also take a post with everyone else? We need as many people as possible... I think I might even recruit ghosts, as well..."

Of course they agreed; what else could they say?

"Wonderful," Dippet continued, still addressing Harry and Hermione, "and I was thinking you two might also take charge of the student end of this organization. Perhaps get a feel for everyone else's defense skills? Decide what might be useful, and you can liaison between the prefects and professors... goodness knows we need someone to take charge, and I'm in over my head at the moment."

"Excuse me, Professor," Riddle interrupted, and once again, Hermione felt thoroughly annoyed at his audacity. "Do you really think it best to let them head a project like this? I mean to say, they haven't been here very long, and know little about the school or its students..."

He stared in Harry and Hermione's direction – no, _glared_, actually – for this time his face, rather than staying calm and bored-looking, was gaining a pink tinge, and his eyes were flashing in a rather furious-looking manner.

This time, Dippet looked aggravated at his interruption. "Are you implying that _you _should be in charge of this? As Head Boy I should think that you already have plenty of responsibilities."

"Oh, of course not," Riddle said quickly, "I only meant to say perhaps one of the prefects may be a better choice..."

"No," Dippet said firmly. "I should think not. Harry and Hermione have proved themselves today to be more capable than many to be in charge of such an assignment. I would ask no one but them. So," he turned to Harry and Hermione once again, "will you help us?"

Once again, they couldn't say no, and Hermione had a feeling that Harry was extremely happy to get something that Riddle couldn't have.

"Certainly, Professor," he said promptly. Hermione just nodded.

Dippet smiled. "Wonderful. I'll let everyone know when we are to have our first class. As for now, I think we should all go. Professors, you may attend to your students..."

At that, everyone began talking again and moving to leave the office. Hermione, meanwhile, remained silent. This day had been completely and utterly shocking, and at the moment, she did not feel like reacting.

As she finally reached the door she felt a hand clap on the back of her shoulder. Slughorn was standing there wearing a funny expression on his face. "Impressive, Miss Wilkins; very impressive..." And before she could reply he was gone, leaving her feeling very strange inside.


	11. The Failed Patronus

**Author's note:** See? What did I tell you? I posted an update in less than two weeks! And it would have happened even more quickly, except this is my longest chapter yet: over 5,400 words! As you can image, it took a bit longer to write than normal. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and I hope you like it (finally, we start to see a lot more of Tom Riddle in this chapter). So, without further ado...

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The Failed Patronus

That night was one of the worst that Hermione had ever spent at Hogwarts. She felt trapped; as all students were required to stay in their common rooms she couldn't get away from her classmates or really talk to Harry about anything important. Of course, with the news of Julie's death, the general mood in the room was almost unbearable. Some people took to crying and reminiscing about their friend, while others seemed shocked and didn't know what to do with themselves. A few, (the more practical ones, Hermione observed), were worried about the state of the war. They had heard what had happened from the Gryffindor prefects and spent the entire night speculating about what was to come.

This all made Hermione extremely uncomfortable; the talk of death was so depressing, and speculation about the war just gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore; around seven o'clock she tried to get away from everyone by going to bed early. That proved to be just as bad – her roommates had already taken refuge in the dormitory and spent the entire evening sobbing with one another. Hermione, however irritated this made her, couldn't blame them – she remembered how she felt when Fred died, and he was only the brother of one of her best friends.

That got her thinking of Ron again, and how much she missed him, and how she really hoped that he was still alive. Of course, that made her a bit depressed, and then _that_ feeling only got worse when she started scolding herself for feeling sorry over Ron instead of Julie. _There's something wrong with me,_ she thought darkly as she tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep.

Finally, the other girls managed to cry themselves to sleep and Hermione was able to get some rest. The following morning rolled around entirely too quickly, and soon she found herself sitting at breakfast with Harry, discussing the previous day's events.

"You know, Hermione, I find it really funny how annoyed he is that Dippet put us in charge of everything," Harry said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Riddle. He flashed a mischievous grin. "It's very satisfying to have something that he can't."

Hermione scoffed. "Oh come off it Harry," she replied. "Does it really matter?" She stared dolefully at her bowl of untouched porridge. "This whole situation is making me lose my appetite."

He shrugged. "I just feel that if we can't do anything to physically harm him, we might as well get under his skin as much as possible. And if we can make it look as though it's unintentional, I say all the better."

"Oh yeah?" She glared at him. "And push him to the limit? Make him crack and let us feel the consequence? Nice plan, Harry."

Harry smirked. "Well if you ask me, he's already cracked a _long_ time ago."

Just then, the morning post arrived. Hermione usually didn't think twice about this; as they didn't know anyone during the 1940's, they had no reason to ever receive mail. Therefore, it came as a bit of a surprise when, today, they found two folded pieces of parchment dropped on their laps.

"What...?" Harry said, picking his up. "Did they get the wrong people?"

"No," Hermione said, eyeing the two school owls that were leaving their spot at the Gryffindor table. "I know who this is from: Dippet." She ripped open the piece of parchment, and sure enough, a short note was signed with the Headmaster's name.

_Dear students and faculty:_

_We will have our first defense meeting tonight, immediately following dinner, during which the Patronus Charm and the discussed variation will be covered. Additionally, new patrol duty schedules will be passed out to all students and professors._

_Armando Dippet, _

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Hermione looked up and noticed that the professors and students from last night were all currently reading the same letter. She looked back down at hers and considered it for a moment. "..._'the Patronus Charm and the discussed variation will be covered.' _Dippet said that he's going to want students to help the professors with the lessons – do you think he's going to want _us_ to teach tonight?"

"No," Harry said thoughtfully. "He's going to want _you_ to teach tonight."

Hermione blanched. "_What?_"

Harry finished scanning the letter and placed it carefully on the table. "Yes, you. I mean, you _are_ the one who showed off with your Patronus yesterday. Am I right?"

"Well still, it's so soon... and I-I don't, I _can't_ teach this very well – " Hermione stammered. The more she thought about this, the more she felt she was going to hurl. Her? Teach everyone else? Including the professors? She couldn't do a proper job on only a few hours notice... and by herself? She would barely consider herself qualified enough to tutor a few students, never mind the entire Hogwarts staff...

"I have to go," she said suddenly, standing up from the table.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Where? It's Sunday."

"To the library."

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Hermione spent the remainder of the day in the library searching for any books that referenced the Patronus Charm. She didn't know nearly enough about the theory to teach others... really, her knowledge was quite informal; she had learned from Harry in the DA, and only read a short passage about it in class.

Thankfully, this particular bit of magic was by no means forbidden at Hogwarts, so Hermione was able to find several helpful books without much difficulty. Before long she had a large quantity of ancient texts piled beside her, and as it was a Sunday, there was no one around to distract her as she painstakingly made her way through each one.

Hermione found this to be rather calming; finally, she was back in her element. The library was, as it should be, helping her with her problem. There was no more nonsense of looking for nonexistent information on time travel or trying to be secretive about searching through the restricted section. She had all the information she needed right in front of her. Though the books were not as helpful as she might have wanted, (the Patronus Charm theory had evidently not been expanded upon yet), they did allow her to systematically make sense of the spell in a way that she could explain to others. This made Hermione feel as though she had control over the situation, and for a while she felt as though she were merely going to an exam that night.

As the day wore on, though, her nerves started kicking in again. Soon, she no longer felt as though she were going to an exam, but rather to her untimely execution. Really, were these books actually going to help her? She could know everything there is to know on the subject and still fail miserably as a teacher. And, as the dinner hour grew closer, she began to feel as though she knew nothing on the subject anyway. She started to speed-read through all of her books again, trying to absorb every bit of information that might be useful.

Finally, she could delay no longer; she was already late for dinner and there was little else she could do to prepare. Scanning a passage one last time, she reluctantly set down her books and made her way back to the Great Hall.

"So how did you make out?" Harry asked as she took the place beside him at the end of the Gryffindor table.

Hermione grimaced. "Well I did find plenty of books on the theory – that charm is advanced, but it _is _in the Newt-level curriculum – "

"Really?"

"Yes," she said smartly. "And you should know that, by the way. Anyway, so I found a ton of information, but I still feel completely unprepared. I feel like I'm being asked to test on information just covered in class... only this is worse." Butterflies began mounting in her stomach again. "This isn't just regurgitating information, Harry; I have to make sure that others actually understand it, too. There's a whole other level to teaching than just knowing the curriculum."

Harry chewed thoughtfully on a piece of broccoli. "But you taught in the DA before – why not think of this like that? This is almost the same thing. And anyway, if you mess up, I'll try to help you out."

That did nothing to calm Hermione's nerves. If anything, it made them worse: she did _not _want to think about messing up. What's more, this was _not _the DA – she would be teaching experienced professors. However, she didn't say any of this to Harry; she was afraid that if she spoke she might lose the little dinner that she had already consumed.

Instead, they sat in silence for the remainder of the meal, Hermione feeling more nervous every minute. Before she knew it, dinner was almost over. Many of the students had already left, and those who hadn't were in the process of taking their belongings and leaving. The professors and prefects all waited quietly for everyone to leave, and, when the last student closed the door to the Great Hall, Dippet stood up and gave a quick flick of his wand. All of the food and plates vanished from the tables.

"Good evening, everyone," he said briskly. "Would you all mind standing up?"

As Hermione stood up with the others, she felt her heart begin to pound. She barely registered the fact that Dippet had raised his wand, banished the tables to either side of the room, and summoned everyone to the front of the hall. Suddenly, she was standing next to Harry and listening as Dippet welcomed them all. She looked around and saw that the prefects looked positively ecstatic to start the lesson. The professors didn't seem to care either way. Then, she saw Tom Riddle standing a distance away from the other students, next to Slughorn. He was listening to Dippet with courteous and rapt attention.

During all of this Dippet must have started the meeting because, all of a sudden, he was talking about tonight's lesson. Hermione's heart began to pound even more furiously than before.

"...tonight we'll start with the Patronus Charm," he was saying. "I figured that will be the most useful at the moment, since we may need to communicate before Grindelwald gets close enough to fight again. Miss Wilkins will be teaching tonight." Then he turned to Hermione. "So Miss Wilkins, would you like to begin?"

Hermione panicked. "Me?" she almost squeaked. With the moment upon her she got a bad case of stage fright. Her mind went completely blank; everything she had learned earlier in the day utterly disappeared. All she could think about was the fact that everyone in the room was staring at her expectantly, and she had nothing to show them. She must make some kind of an excuse.

"Um, you know," she swallowed thickly, "Harry is actually better with Patronuses than I am. I mean, I can communicate with them and everything, but if you want to learn the just the charm I'm sure Harry's the better teacher. It's kind of complicated, and he can explain it much better that I can..." She looked at Harry, pleading with him to take over. She couldn't deal with this right now; the pressure was too huge. The professors – _her_ professors – were expecting her to teach _them_. If she muffed this up, well, she didn't know how she could face them ever again.

Harry, thankfully, understood the urgency of her plea and stepped forward. "Do you mind, Professor?" he said to Dippet.

The Headmaster shrugged. "Either way doesn't matter to me. I assume you are just as proficient at the charm as your sister."

Harry nodded. "Alright, then," he said, looking around the room. "How many people here know how to produce a Patronus?"

About two-thirds of the adults raised their hands. The students just looked at him blankly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, then..." He turned to the students. "How many of you even know what a Patronus _is_?"

Only half of the group raised their hands. This, unfortunately, didn't surprise Hermione; although the Patronus Charm was clearly labeled in the Newt Level curriculum, she had long ago given up hope that students retain any useful information from their studies.

Harry looked at Hermione and sighed. "That's what I thought."

"Right. Okay, then..." He looked around the room. Everyone, including Hermione, was staring at him intently, waiting to see what would happen. He seemed to be thinking of how to proceed.

Finally, he spoke. "It's important that you all know what a Patronus is. It's very complicated to explain or learn, but can be extremely useful. It's this... sort of _shield_ that is used primarily as defense against Dementors, but can also be manipulated in other ways. It's a projection of good that comes from _you_, and every one of you has your own unique Patronus. I know this sounds difficult, and Patronuses can be if you make them. The hardest part about this spell is getting focused, and staying focused on the right thought." He walked slowly across the room, directing his speech towards the group of Prefects.

"To conjure your Patronus, you need to think of a happy thought. I can't stress this enough. It can be a memory, or an image, or something that's going to happen; this doesn't matter, but you _have_ to make sure it's happy." He paused, apparently thinking hard. "But it has to be a certain kind of happy thought. You can't think about how it feels to be riding on a broomstick, or how fun the Christmas holidays may have been. No, those aren't strong enough..."

The entire room was still, watching him even more intently than before. Hermione, glad to be out of the spotlight, had edged her way to the side of the room and was watching Harry through the spaces between people's heads. Her heart rate was finally slowing down to normal again.

Meanwhile, Harry seemed to know where he was going now, and he spoke with more confidence. "It has to be something powerful; something that can trigger a strong emotion whenever you think of it." His expression hardened and a glazed look crossed over his eyes. "It must cause an emotion that can swell up from your stomach and make you feel light-hearted if you concentrate too hard. Once you feel like this, you must channel it in exactly the right way. Imagine it flowing through your body to the tips of your fingers and out through your wand. And when you feel that you have it concentrated as much as possible, you put it into a form that can be used in your defense. You say the words, '_Expecto patronum_.'"

Had they been sitting, Hermione was sure that everyone in the room would be hanging off the edge of their seat by now. Harry's speech was, well... there was a reason he was teaching tonight in her stead.

He paused again, surveying the room. His eyes found Hermione's and, grinning, he said, _"Expecto patronum!"_

A brilliantly white stag emerged from his wand and cantered around the room. Everyone clapped and started talking among themselves. Most of the prefects, having only seen a Patronus one other time in their life, seemed awestruck at the magnificence of Harry's stag. The professors, on the other hand, were whispering excitedly to one another; they seemed to be extremely impressed.

Hermione couldn't blame them, she thought as she stared fondly at the familiar stag. It really was a brilliant Patronus. She didn't know if it was possible or not, but it just seemed so much stronger than her own – brighter, more full of life. It was almost as though the stag had its own personality.

Hermione's thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Harry stepped over to her.

"What do you think so far?" he said out of the corner of his mouth.

Her heart filled up with pride. "Oh, Harry, you're wonderful! You've done such a good job; I never heard it explained so well before!" She smiled at him, truly grateful for what he had done. "Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you. I'm sorry I just... _froze_ like that."

He grinned. Harry was never one to enjoy the spotlight, but with all the praise he was receiving he seemed to be very pleased with himself. "It's no problem," he said, "none at all." He looked around the room – the stag had slowly faded away, and people were started to quiet down now. "Do you mind if I...? "

"Oh!" Hermione said. "Of course, go ahead. You need to continue."

He smiled again and walked back into the middle of the room.

"Alright, everyone – if you all just remember what I said: _'Expecto patronum!' _Don't forget to think of something really happy. Oh, and don't worry if you don't get it right away, or even today. It's a fairly difficult charm, you know. So," he finished, "you can all have a go at it now, if you want."

He didn't have to say it twice. At his word, everyone in the room whipped out their wand and began practicing the charm. Harry and Hermione, along with the professors who could already perform the charm, walked around the room and gave advice to those having a difficult time. (Hermione didn't mind helping at all now that she was no longer the center of attention). Within a few minutes, the remaining handful of professors mastered the spell, and they too helped with the students.

Hermione was strongly reminded of her time in the DA. Everyone seemed so willing to learn and, probably because of this, they were accomplishing much more than they ever would have in a classroom. One by one, the prefects were all getting it – and Hermione couldn't believe this. Even in the DA, it had taken everyone several days of hard practicing for even one person to get it right. But here, the older students had little trouble with the spell.

And their success seemed to be inspiring the younger students, for before long everyone in the room was able to produce their Patronus. The room was filled with a myriad of animals, all barking and squawking at one another, and running about the room. Hermione was still walking about the room, occasionally giving advice, when she realized that one person was quite behind everyone else.

"Come on, Tom, my boy, it's not that difficult," Slughorn said, coaching a frustrated-looking Riddle. "You're just not concentrating hard enough."

Riddle, though, did seem to be concentrating. His face, screwed up rather tightly and turning a fair shade of pink, seemed to be the indication that he really was trying as hard as he could.

_"Expecto patronum!"_

Nothing happened. If one were to look closely enough they might see the faintest wisp of silver trickle down from the tip of his wand, but it was weak and almost impossible to make out.

"Maybe if you selected another memory, Tom, something really happy this time..." Slughorn seemed determined to see Riddle's Patronus.

"I'm trying, _Sir_," Riddle said through gritted teeth, "but it's just not working."

"Another memory, then!"

Had he not been speaking with a professor he might have lost his temper right then and there. "I said I've already tried that."

"Well then, try again!"

Hermione, who was nearby helping a sixth year Hufflepuff, couldn't help but overhear their conversation, and somehow found herself drawing nearer. Unfortunately, Slughorn spotted her and summoned her over.

"Now Miss Wilkins, do you have any advice for our Tom, here?"

Hermione would have rather crawled in a hole and died than answer him, partly because she had no desire to see Riddle succeed, and partly because it would be terribly awkward to give the young Voldemort magical advice. Riddle was apparently just as adverse to receiving advice as she was to giving it because he mumbled, "please, Professor, I have it. Just give me a few more minutes."

"Ha!" Slughorn slapped him on the back and beckoned Hermione to come closer. "I'll have none of that! If Hermione can be any help at all, then let her help!"

"Er," Hermione said stupidly. "Um, why don't you show me how you're doing?"

Having no choice with Slughorn standing between them, Riddle again tried the charm. As expected, it failed, perhaps even more woefully than before. Hermione suspected that her presence was causing him to lose his concentration.

She cleared her throat. "Well it's not _awful_..."

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Hermione," Slughorn said, "It's dreadful. It's worse than dreadful – it's nonexistent! Honestly, Tom, I would have thought better of you." He frowned disapprovingly.

If Hermione had known him well, she would see that Riddle was becoming quite flustered. However, she tried to avoid eye contact with him as much as possible, and trained her gaze instead on a leopard Patronus that was prowling the room behind his back.

"Well," she said absentmindedly, "as Harry said before, it really is important that you concentrate as hard as you can, and you must pick the right thought. It's got to be happy, really happy..." Here, had she been looking, she would have seen his face turn even pinker. But Hermione was still pointedly looking away as she spoke. "And also, it might do some good if you put a greater emphasis on the 'o' in '_patronum._...'"

"Ah!" Slughorn cried enthusiastically. "There you go! Why don't you try _that?_"

"Of course," Riddle said stiffly, as if he had known this all along and was simply entertaining Hermione's poor efforts.

_"Expecto patronum!"_ he cried, this time with the emphasis on the "o." Though once again, his Patronus did not form, a brighter wisp of silver flowed from his wand. It was still a shapeless cloud, though (if one could even be as generous as to call it a cloud), and soon dissolved into thin air.

Slughorn, however, seemed to be pleased. "Look at that! See? Hermione did help after all. Look at that improvement!" And he went on for the next few minutes giving advice to Riddle and comparing Hermione's wandwork. She made several attempts to edge away, but every time she moved she was questioned by Slughorn and forced to stay.

"Now what do you think would be the impact of moving his wand like this," – here he made a strange pattern with his wand – "instead of the way you did before?"

"Er..." Hermione didn't know what to say. Honestly, she had never seen anyone work their wand like that for the Patronus Charm, and was about to say so when Dippet cleared his throat and interrupted everyone.

"Congratulations, everyone!" he said happily, clasping his hands together. "I _cannot_ believe the progress that has happened here today. For everyone to do so well on their first day is absolutely amazing! Unfortunately, though, Professor Dumbledore just pointed out to me that we've run out of time. We'll have to get to the second part of this lesson during the week. Hopefully this time Miss Wilkins will be up to teaching us about Patronus communication?"

She smiled awkwardly and nodded; what did it matter if she had to teach next time? She was off the hook for today, and what's more, she could finally get away from Slughorn and Riddle.

"Oh, and before you go, I have your new patrol schedules ready; Professor Dumbledore will be passing them out..."

For once in her life, Hermione was too tired to listen to the remainder of the Headmaster's speech. Instead, she tore herself away from Slughorn and made her way over to where Harry was standing. He was already holding both of their schedules.

"We're on together Thursday nights," he said, handing over hers.

"Is that it?" she asked, scanning the parchment. She was on four nights a week – and they were long shifts, too. She groaned. Then she groaned even harder when she saw that she had one night a week with Riddle.

"Ooh, that's rough," Harry said, looking over her shoulder. "Sundays with Riddle. Good luck with that tonight."

She grimaced. "Thanks; I'll need it."

The next few minutes were rushed and confusing. Everyone began talking loudly about their posts, (or complaining, rather), and Dippet tried to gather everyone that was on duty that night in order to hand out corridors to the pairs.

"Now these assignments are just temporary," he was saying. (Here, Hermione got her hopes up that she would only have to work with Riddle this once). "The corridors will be rotated among the different partners..." (Hermione's heart sunk in disappointment). "If you can, please stay in sight of one another. That's the point of having you stay in pairs; I don't want any accidents..."

Then Hermione received her post – the fifth floor corridor – and somehow she found herself standing next to Riddle. Before she could protest or distance herself, everyone began to leave the room at once. Hermione was then shuffled out of the Great Hall and up the stairs, and quite suddenly the group dispersed, leaving her to walk alone with none other than Tom Riddle.

This was bound to be awkward. Seeing as they were both heading to the same place, Hermione couldn't very well rush ahead of him or linger behind. No, she was stuck walking next to him in an extremely uncomfortable silence. He didn't so much as look at her as they walked together up the marble staircase, never mind acknowledge her in any way. Was he annoyed at what happened before? If not, she was sure he was thinking about it. After all, he was the only one in the entire group that had not managed the Patronus. Hermione was sure that, had it been her, she would have been extremely upset.

Her thoughts about this muddled together, and then, perhaps because the awkward silence was nearly killing her, she felt the need to speak.

"I'm sure you'll get the Patronus next time."

Riddle seemed to freeze at her words. Merlin, _she_ froze at her words! What was she thinking? She shouldn't be talking to him in the first place, and never mind about _that._ But now she was caught; having initiated a conversation, albeit a one-sided kind, she had to continue. Or at least explain herself somehow.

"What I mean," she rushed on nervously, "is that it's difficult to manage on the first attempt. I'm really surprised that all the other students did it at all; I mean, it took Harry months to produce his. Well, yes, he was only thirteen, and he _was _practicing on a Bogart in the form of a Dementor. You can only imagine how much more difficult that is, when that foul creature is breathing down your back, forcing you to relive your worst memories... She trailed off awkwardly.

There was an icy silence in which Riddle gave her a look that was so polite, yet so scathing at the same time that Hermione's stomach seemed to drop all the way to the dungeons. The look was enough to make her wish she hadn't spoken at all; surely he was going to explode and hex her into oblivion.

However, he didn't lose his temper. In fact, when he spoke it was in a quiet, strained voice. "Do I look like I care?" he said tersely.

Well, actually, it _did _look like he cared, and very much so, but she kept her mouth shut. What he said was a statement, not a question, and not one to be answered. Hermione didn't need telling twice to see that.

For a moment she had the urge to say something else and change the topic to something less touchy, but then she stopped. Riddle, who was still pointedly ignoring her, was obviously in no mood to talk. _Good, _Hermione thought. _Who am I to initiate a conversation, anyway? _She supposed that her half-hearted desire to talk to the Head Boy had something to do with her subconscious guilt about Harry's outburst at Riddle a few weeks back. Perhaps she wanted to sort things out between them and make sure there were no hard feelings. But, she thought more sensibly, this was Tom Riddle – simply saying something would not put her in his favor. Besides, she didn't _want _to be in his favor, she just didn't want to be _out_ of it.

Reaching this conclusion, Hermione decided that the best way to approach this situation was to simply not deal with it. So she didn't respond and he went back to ignoring her. They reached their destination in silence, and Hermione began, what she felt was, the longest night of her life.

Having been a prefect for two years, she was more than used to being on watch duty. However, she had never been on duty quite as long as this, nor had she ever been on duty with someone as unbearable as Riddle. Not that Riddle was being unbearable in an annoying way; in fact, he didn't say anything at all.

No, Hermione observed as the night went on, the silence between them was what made the night unbearable – it was worse than if they had been shouting at one another. And to boot, she still felt extremely awkward about what happened before. She doubted that Riddle could possibly be capable of feeling awkward, but he must have been uncomfortable in some way as well. Hermione, for the life of her, just couldn't figure out what was wrong. It was just, well... he kept _looking _at her. Not that there's anything wrong with looking at a person, but once again, he was employing that scanning sort of stare on her and quite frankly, it was making her feel very uncomfortable.

Hermione tried to ignore it for the longest time. She tried to think of other things – recent books that she's read, what mysteries the veil might hold – but that didn't work for long. She could still feel his eyes on her back. Then, for a while, she tried to amuse herself by making a stream of bubbles pour from the tip of her wand and then popping them one by one until they all disappeared. That only seemed to make the situation worse: Riddle was practically _glaring_ at her by then. So she took to pacing. It made her feel as though she was doing something – she could concentrate on the number of steps she would take in each direction instead of the number of times Riddle looked at her and then looked away again.

Unfortunately, that didn't last long either. Riddle was just being so... _infuriating!_ Really, what kind of person stared like that? Was he actually looking at her or simply staring off into space? And he had no right! Finally fed up with this game he was playing at, she stared right back at him, to see how _he _liked it. Let _him _feel self-conscious for once.

For a moment he seemed surprised that Hermione was not, for once, avoiding eye contact. Then – was that a smirk? No, his face went blank as usual and he kept staring. Hermione stared back with equal ferocity for as long as she could. After a while, though, her eyes began to water and she decided that this was, if possible, even more awkward than before. Honestly, two people just glaring at one another like that, neither willing to say a word – who _does_ that? She decided that by staring back at him, (or fidgeting as she had done before), she was just playing into his game. So she lowered her eyes and turned to face the opposite wall, only glancing back once to see if he was seriously still staring at her. He was. _Oh Lord, _she thought to herself miserably, _he does have problems, doesn't he?_

Hermione spent the rest of her shift like that, refusing to look away from that stretch of wall. She could still feel his eyes on her occasionally, though as she discovered as the night went on, he was being just like a child. After it became apparent that she was going to ignore him indefinitely he became bored and turned away towards his own corner. That was a bit of a relief, though the time still dragged on painstakingly slow.

As she stood there, thinking to herself in the dark, she decided that she was most definitely going to bring a book next time.


	12. A Bit of Light Reading

**Author's note:** Alright, I blew my promise (but only by a few days!) So the update took a little over two weeks. But I have an excuse. I actually wrote a lot of the next chapter before I wrote this one, and I – gasp – came up with another idea for a new story. I'm not abandoning this one, of course, but the new idea kind of excited me so I just had to start writing it. It's another Tom/Hermione (I just can't get enough of that pairing!) and it's going to be... different than this one. I think it will progress more quickly, too. Anyway, I'll post the first chapter to that soon, so you'll see what I mean.

On another note, I think I forgot to respond to a couple of the reviews for the past chapter, but I can't remember which ones. I profusely apologize if you reviewed and didn't hear from me. I really do appreciate you guys!

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A Bit of Light Reading

Classes began as usual that Monday, much to everyone's chagrin. On her way to Transfiguration Hermione could hear people muttering things like, "but people are still in the hospital wing!" and, "no one can concentrate with what just happened!" and, "what about Julie...?"

"Oh yes," a voice sneered loudly above everyone else's. "What about Julie, _indeed!_" Agatha Purkiss's face came into view. "Really, the Head Girl croaks and we don't even get a single day off from classes! I suppose no one really cared about her anyway. I know _I_ didn't..."

Just then someone came charging through the crowd. Pushing past Hermione, Charlus Potter stopped in front of Purkiss with his wand pointing directly between her eyes.

_"How dare you,"_ he snarled.

Purkiss's eyes crossed for a moment, looking at the wand before her, and then smirked. "Aw, poor Potter's upset about his girlfriend?"

"SHUT UP! She was _not_ my girlfriend!"

At that moment, Ben showed up at Charlus's side. He looked ready to skip the duel and go straight to a fist fight.

Purkiss laughed.

"Oh, so she had _two_ boyfriends! Well boys, too bad she's not here to defend your ass and take points away from Slytherin. It's a damn shame, really – "

"Shut up, you slimy-arsed WHORE!" Ben looked ready to pummel her into the ground. His sleeved were drawn back and his hand was positioned into a tight and powerful-looking fist.

Though she didn't look remotely intimidated, the Slytherin took a step back. "You know, it's probably for the best," she said knowingly. "If McKinnon was stupid enough to get herself killed like that, who knows how stupid she would have been otherwise – "

But Purkiss didn't get a chance to finish. A bright white light burst from Charlus's wand with a bang, and she was suddenly covered in a thick, bright red goo from head to toe. Apparently, the slime was so thick that she couldn't grab her wand to retaliate; she made to move her arm but it was stuck in place to the side of her body.

Charlus crossed his arms, satisfied with his work. "We've told you that you had a slimy-ass, Purkiss; you've just never believed us before."

Purkiss looked enraged.

"Excuse me," a polite voice said from beyond the commotion. Hermione, along with everyone besides Purkiss, turned around to see Dumbeldore walking around the corner. He stepped up to where Ben and Charlus were standing, stroked his chin, and surveyed the situation mater-of-factly. After a moment he said, "Mr. Potter, can you please explain to me what Miss Purkiss did to deserve this?"

Charlus shot Purkiss a dirty look. "She was insulting Julie, Sir. It was so disrespectful that I had to stop her."

Dumbledore nodded as though he understood. "Be that as it may," he said, "we do not allow fighting like this in the corridors. Or anywhere," he added thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I'll have to take five points from each Slytherin and Gryffindor." Then he considered Purkiss for a moment. "Mr. Riddle, would you please take Miss Purkiss to the Hospital Wing? I believe she will, ah, need a shower."

Riddle, who had been observing this whole scene quietly from the back of the crowd, stepped forward. "Of course, Professor." He acknowledged the professor in polite interest. Then, taking his wand from his back pocket, he levitated the slime-covered Julie and directed her down the hallway. Globs of red slime dripped from her body and left a trail as they went.

Dumbledore had an amused expression on his face as he stared at the drops of slime on the ground. Then he leaned down so only Charlus and those in the immediate vicinity could hear. "Ten points to Gryffindor for creatively defending the honor of our Head Girl."

xxxxxxxxxx

Dumbledore was, not surprisingly, a wonderful teacher. Although Hermione had admired Professor McGonagall for years, Dumbledore's knowledge of, and approach to, Transfiguration was of a standard she had never even seen before. It was no wonder that he became headmaster in just a few short years after this.

Unfortunately, not everyone else seemed to appreciate him as much as Hermione did. Yes, the other students (both Gryffindor and Slytherin) seemed to respect him, (for how could one not?); but they really couldn't care less about what he was saying. It became obvious after only a few minutes that everyone' minds were elsewhere – clearly, they were all thinking about what happened on Saturday. Charlus and Ben, at least, were still fuming about the incident with Purkiss. They sat across the row from Hermione, arms crossed and staring down at their desk the whole class.

Every so often someone would raise their hand and interrupt Dumbledore's lesson to ask about the situation with Grindelwald. "Have you heard of anything from the Ministry yet?" one person asked. Another said, "do you know if Grindelwald is still in the vicinity around Hogwarts?" Someone was even brazen enough to ask, "What did you do when you were away from school?"

To all of these questions Dumbledore just smiled good-naturedly and said something along the lines of, "now Mr. Jenkins, I'm sure that's a valid question, but I'm afraid I'm not the best person to answer that for you. Now why don't we turn our books to page 697 and look for a moment at Blackstone's Theory of human to animal transfiguration..."

Hermione only admired him more that he didn't lose his temper once during the lesson – she knew that she probably would have very shortly into the class.

Despite the rude interruptions, Hermione was extremely satisfied with the lesson, and by the time Dumbledore told them to pack up, she was a bit sad that he hadn't stayed as the Transfiguration professor in her time. She was about to mention this to Harry when Dumbledore called out her name.

"Miss Wilkins," he said, "would you oblige me by staying behind for a few moments? I would like to speak with you."

Harry and Hermione both grinned at each other and made their way back towards his desk; perhaps he had made some headway on their getting back to the future.

As they approached the front of the room, though, Dumbledore frowned. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wilkins," he said to Harry, "but I only wanted to speak with your sister. Would you mind stepping out for a few moments?"

Harry looked confused, but nodded all the same. "Of course, Sir," he said, and left the room.

When the last person left Dumbledore raised his hand, causing the door to click shut. He sat down at his desk and began shuffling papers. "Are you alright, Miss Wilkins?" he asked.

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Yes, of course, Professor. Why do you ask?" This was certainly _not _what she had been expecting him to say.

He turned his gaze from his papers and considered her for a moment. "I just thought that you weren't feeling yourself last night. Why did you decline from teaching that lesson?"

She felt her face go hot and red. "Er, well... I said that last night, didn't I? Harry knows how to conjure a Patronus much better than I. He's had so much more experience and I know he'd be the better teacher..." She trailed off awkwardly. Dumbledore was watching her kindly and nodding. Despite this, she could tell he knew that she wasn't telling the complete truth.

_Damn him and his perceptiveness. _

Hermione sighed. "And, well," she continued slowly, "I guess I was nervous."

Dumbledore smiled and now she felt she was obligated to continue. "To be honest, Professor, I don't think I know nearly enough about the Patronus Charm to actually teach it to people, never mind my Professors. I'm afraid of messing up, and this is so important to everyone, and I... I-I panicked."

"I see."

He removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed them clean on his cloak. Hermione waited, half-holding her breath, to see what he would say.

"Why do you think you would be such a poor teacher, Miss Wilkins?" he finally asked, replacing the pair of glasses carefully on his nose.

That seemed like a rather stupid question to Hermione. "Well I've never really taught anyone before, and I _know_ the Professors would do a much better job..."

"Do you really?"

Hermione faltered. "Well, er, yes..."

"Even though they have no clue how to make their Patronuses talk as you do with yours?"

"Well..."

He smiled. "You see? No one can do this better than you, Hermione. I'm certain of it. The point of these lessons is to get _everyone_ involved, even the students. You are all so talented, but lack the confidence to actually _use_ this talent when under pressure. That's why we need to build your confidence. And that's why we want everyone to get involved in teaching. I'm sure some of the younger students won't be quite as good at this in the beginning, but they _do_ say the best way to learn something is to teach it yourself."

Hermione nodded.

"I hope you will make a good impression on the younger ones during the next lesson."

"Oh, of course, Professor. I won't mess this up again, I promise..."

He smiled. "Good. And while we're on this topic, Professor Dippet wanted me to remind you that you need to be coming up with ideas for lessons from students."

Hermione had completely forgotten about this. She blushed. "Don't worry, Sir," she said, "I'll get on it right away."

Dumbledore finished sorting his papers, and after placing them in a large file, stood up. "Perhaps you could talk to the prefects and see what they have in mind? Find out what they can do in terms of Defense spells and write that down so Professor Dippet can organize them into lessons."

"I'll get right on that, Sir."

He smiled again and made to leave the empty classroom. As he reached the door, a thought occurred to Hermione. "Professor," she blurted out.

Dumbledore turned around and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Miss Wilkins?"

"Professor," she repeated, taking a deep breath, "I was thinking... is there any way to switch my Sunday night shift with anyone else? I would really like to have another day with my brother..." She smiled at him hopefully.

Dumbledore frowned. "Why is that? Is Mr. Riddle giving you a problem?"

"No – well, sort of, Sir; It's just that he's –" But she stopped when she saw that his eyes were closed and his head was shaking slowly.

"I'm afraid that I cannot do anything to change the schedules, Miss Wilkins, no matter what your problem is with Mr. Riddle. You'll have to take that up with Professor Dippet."

Hermione nodded, somewhat disappointed. She didn't think she could bring herself to ask the Headmaster a favor like this.

Dumbledore looked at Hermione curiously and lowered his voice. "But let me assure you, Miss Wilkins, that your feelings about Mr. Riddle are not unfounded. No," he said solemnly, "they are not unfounded at all." Then he raised his voice again and said cheerfully, "Have a good day, Miss Wilkins," and left.

Though he did nothing to help her problem, Hermione left the classroom feeling much better than before. She knew, of course, that Dumbledore never trusted Riddle, but somehow hearing his past self say so made Hermione feel like there was hope left in the world.

She entered the corridor and found that it was empty. This didn't surprise her; Harry had probably decided against waiting for her and went to the Room of Requirement instead. Aching to tell him about her conversation with Dumbledore, she wasted no time heading that way herself.

After only a few moments, though, someone called out to her.

"Hey Wilkins."

The voice came out of nowhere and made Hermione almost drop her books. Instinctively, she pulled out her wand and surveyed the corridor. Two Slytherins, Lestrange and Avery, were slouching in a small alcove just behind where she was standing. They were looking at her strangely, and Hermione wondered how she didn't see them before.

"Yes?" she said, not lowering her wand. Though they were not too far from the Transfiguration classroom and in broad daylight, Hermione didn't want to be too careful; these were Death Eaters in the making and were probably already very dangerous.

Lestrange stepped out of the alcove. "Whoa," he said, holding up his hands defensively. "We don't want any trouble."

"Yeah," Avery agreed. "We just wanna talk to you."

They came slowly across the corridor to where she was standing. Up close, Hermione had never seen slimier people. They were both tall and pale, and had a greasy look about their face. Trying to smile, they instead only managed a sort of twisted sneer. Hermione kept her wand focused between their two bodies.

"About what?"

Lestrange tried to smile wider, but it only came out as a nastier smirk. "About you," he said shortly.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"You see," Avery continued, "we've heard so much about you and your brother in the past few days. Isn't that right, Lestrange?"

Lestrange nodded his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Hermione's.

"You fought off Grindelwald's men."

"And you conjured that Patronus."

Hermione didn't say anything. Yes, this was all true, but what did they _want_ from her? She glanced up the staircase, thinking of a way she could escape from them.

"It's very interesting," Lestrange said.

Avery nodded in agreement. "_Very_ interesting."

There was a pause. "_And_...?" Hermione said, inviting them to continue.

"_And_," Avery said, "We thought it was very interesting how you just showed up here a few weeks back."

"Very _strange_, more like it," said Lestrange.

"We've heard some interesting things about how you came here."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "_Things?_ Like what kind of _things?_"

"Oh you know," Avery said vaguely, gesturing slowly and distractedly, "_things_."

Lestrange looked at her seriously. "They're probably just rumors, of course, but we wanted to know if you would clear them up for us."

"Clear them up?" Hermione would have crossed her arms impatiently if she wasn't still directing her wand at them. Her hand was starting to ache.

Avery smiled nastily. "Oh yes. We want you to tell us why you came here."

"And where you came from."

Hermione's eyebrows rose into her hairline. "Why do you want to know?" she asked cautiously.

Lestrange considered her carefully. "Because," he said in a low voice, "we don't buy the story you fed Dippet. We think you're up to something here."

Hermione took a step back. "Why would you think that?" she asked coolly. Every moment of this conversation she was becoming more and more sure that Riddle put them up to this. She didn't see why they should suddenly care otherwise.

"Well," Avery said, "after seeing what happened the other day, we started to doubt that you and your brother are the innocent students you claim to be."

"You could be a spy for Grindelwald. It was only _after_ you came here that he was able to get to Hogsmeade," Lestrange added.

"Ah." Hermione thought to herself for a moment, thinking of how she could approach this. The two Slytherins were leering at her quite disturbingly and she wanted to get away before some kind of argument broke out.

In the end, she decided to stick to the truth. "My brother and mine's coming to Hogwarts has nothing to do with Grindelwald's attack," she said simply. "And what led us to come here is our business, not yours."

Their faces darkened.

"Make sure you tell Riddle that when you report back to him," she finished. And before they could respond she turned quickly away and fled.

xxxxxxxxxx

Five minutes later she arrived out of breath in front of the Room of Requirement. Pacing back and forth three times she thought furiously, _I need to see the Gryffindor common room. I need to see the Gryffindor common room. I need to see the Gryffindor common room._ Then she grasped the handle to the door as soon as it appeared, and ran into hers and Harry's secrete hideout.

Harry, who was lounging on a squashy armchair in the middle of room, looked up as Hermione stormed through and slammed the door shut. He lowered the Daily Prophet that he had been reading and said, "What happened? Why did you take so long with Dumbledore?"

Hermione crossed the room and sat in the chair facing his.

"Riddle," she said irritably.

"Riddle?" Harry looked at her sharply. "What did he do?"

"Well, it was _Riddle_, exactly," Hermione explained. "It was really Lestrange and Avery, but I just _know_ Riddle was behind it." Then she went on to explain what happened between the time that Harry left the classroom and when she arrived in the Room of Requirement.

"That's too bad," Harry said after she had finished. "I was hoping that Dumbledore had something to say about our, ah, _problem_."

Hermione waved her hand impatiently. "Never mind about that," she said. "You know he's not going to get anywhere on this for a while. But what about Avery and Lestrange? Don't you think that was a little weird?"

"Well, yes." He paused and folded his copy of the Prophet. "It wouldn't surprise me at all if Riddle put them up to that. They haven't spoken a word to us all year; I don't know why they would find us so interesting now."

"Exactly."

"I wonder what he wants."

There was a short pause in which both of them pondered the situation.

Harry broke the silence. "Maybe he saw what we could do last Saturday and wants us to join the Death Eaters."

Hermione frowned. "Or maybe he's afraid that we'll get _in the way_ of the Death Eaters."

"Or that," he agreed. "He could be finding a way to get rid of us."

Hermione shuddered. "I'd rather not think about that." She paused. "You, er, don't think he would actually do something to us, do you?"

"You never know," he said. "But I don't think he'd be stupid enough to try anything right away anyway. He's probably just trying to get information out of us. And if he really wants information, he's not going to be obvious about it. He's going to do this carefully..."

Hermione felt butterflies rise in her stomach again. "You don't think he'd try Veriteserum, do you?"

"Well," he said seriously, "we'll just have to keep an extra careful watch on our pumpkin juice at dinner from now on."

xxxxxxxxxx

The following week flew by. What with classes and watch duty, Hermione had very little time to do much of anything else. That Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday she had to give up half of her night to guarding one of the school's corridors. Thankfully, none of those nights were quite as bad as the one she spent with Riddle; Thursday she was paired with Harry, and the other two nights she was with a sixth year Ravenclaw and a fifth year Hufflepuff. Yes, the shifts were still unbearably long, but at least she could talk to Harry, and the other two were nice enough.

On top of that, she had to prepare for Dippet's next lesson. He hadn't yet sent word about its date or time, and by Friday this was making Hermione a little nervous. However, she felt the need to be as prepared as possible anyway.

Everyday after classes ended, she had a little bit of free time and accompanied Harry to the Room of Requirement. There they would practice talking to one another with their Patronuses. She had to teach Harry how to do this, of course, because he had never tried before. Hermione found that this was good practice for herself – teaching Harry was almost like a training step towards teaching the prefects and professors.

She hadn't forgotten what Dumbledore told her either. Between classes, duty, teaching Harry, (and studying just the smallest amount), Hermione forced herself to approach every prefect in the school and chat with him or her about the defense lessons.

Though this was probably the last thing she felt like doing at the moment, Hermione realized rather quickly that there was a lot to learn from these people; every one of them was proficient at something in their own way. For instance, there was a group of Ravenclaws who were actually pretty accomplished at Stunning and Disarming. And there were two Gryffindor sixth years that had a whole list of useful hexes. Then there was the little Hufflepuff fifth year who had some great ideas on using transfiguration, and another Slytherin who was rather good with charms.

By the weekend, Hermione had compiled a whole list to give to Dippet. She would have given it to him already, but he hadn't shown up for dinner for a few days.

"Perhaps that's why we haven't been told about the next meeting yet," Harry observed on Saturday evening, during dinner.

"Probably," Hermione agreed. She didn't know where Dippet was – the castle was still on a lock-down, so he must be somewhere in the grounds, right? She supposed that he was so busy cleaning up the mess from last week that he had no time to schedule defense lessons or to show up for dinner.

Sunday morning came and went, and there was still no word from Dippet. Hermione was starting to wish that she had just taught the lesson last week and gotten it over with.

"He'll have to let us know sometime this week," Harry said as they sat practicing their Patronus Charms in the Room of Requirement. "He can't just drop it."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah." She closed her eyes and concentrated hard.

_"Expecto patronum!"_

Her familiar otter emerged from the tip of her wand and ambled over to where Harry was standing on the other side of the room. It looked at Harry very innocently and said in Hermione's voice, "he seemed to think it was very important last week."

Harry smirked, and then conjured his own Patronus. The stag came cantering over and said to Hermione, "Show off."

Hermione laughed and both the otter and the stag faded into thin air.

"What time is it?" Harry asked grabbing his favorite seat by the fireplace.

Hermione frowned and checked her wristwatch. "Time for me to go," she said morosely. "Don't want to be late. This week Riddle and I are on the fourth floor."

Harry made a face as she made to collect her stuff. "Have fun, tonight," he said sarcastically.

She snorted. "Riiight. Well," she added, "I'm bringing a book this time. I figured a bit of light reading on the job will make the time pass by so much more quickly."

Harry eyed the oversized textbook she was stuffing into her bad and gave her a look that plainly said, _light reading?_ Hermione, however, glared at him in a way that just dared him to make a comment, and he said nothing.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," she said, closing the door on her way out.

Twenty minutes later she found herself standing on one end of the fourth floor corridor, opposite Riddle. They had both arrived at the same time, and, wordlessly, agreed to stand as far apart from one another as humanly possible. Taking it as a positive sign that he had not so much as glanced at her since then, Hermione thought that the evening was going swimmingly thus far. She had even taken out her book to read (_A History Through Time of the Defensive Arts), _and settled herself on the floor in a position that was quite comfortable.

She knew, however, that things were, so far, too good to be true. After a few minutes of reading, Hermione heard footsteps approach her from the other side of the hall. A part of her had been expecting them, and she knew that they belonged to Riddle. She didn't bother to look up when they stopped.

Riddle cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he said. "What are you doing?"

Hermione calmly finished reading the page she was on and slowly closed the book, saving her place with her hand. Looking at him placidly she said, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm reading."

She could see that he was trying his very hardest to be calm and polite.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you _reading_ when you should be _watching_?"

"Can't I read and watch at the same time?"

Riddle's cheeks tinged with pink in frustration. "I would think not," he said stiffly. "Being as this is a matter of school security, you should be as alert and ready to defend yourself as possible."

Hermione secretly half-agreed with him, but at the same time thought that this whole 'watch' was more for show than anything else. Obviously Dippet knew that saying the school was being protected by a constant watch would impress both parents and the school's governors. Besides, she doubted that Grindelwald would come sneaking through the fourth floor corridor on a random Sunday evening. He would set off a ton of alarms before he could even get _near _the school. So she honestly did not find much wrong with bringing a book to occupy her time, instead of standing there being bored to tears. She looked at Riddle defiantly and said, "I can still hear, you know. I'd know the moment anyone was walking down this corridor and be ready to attack if necessary."

"Yes, but you wouldn't be paying close enough attention." He narrowed his eyes. "And _stand up_ when I'm talking to you, for Merlin's sake."

Hermione's mouth opened slightly. She was still sitting with her legs crossed and leaning against the wall. _Oh! _She thought to herself furiously. _The audacity of him!_

"I will not stand up stand up if I don't want to," she said bitterly. She glared at him and then turned back to her book, feeling his gaze on her the entire time.

After a few moments he spoke again.

"I will not tolerate such impudence," he said quietly. "You are a guest at this school, and as thus you shall follow its rules. I am Head Boy here, and I say that distractions on duty will not be allowed."

To Hermione's fury, her book disappeared from beneath her hands. She sat there in shock for a moment, and then finally stood up, rounding in on him. "And _I_ will not tolerate such _egotism,"_ she spat, pointing her finger at his chest. "You've _no right_ to take my book like that!"

His eyes followed her finger at each jab she made at him. "And _you've_ no right to act like an immature first year," he said darkly. He glowered at her and suddenly, Hermione found that her finger jammed itself in the air a few inches from his front. Riddle had placed some kind of invisible shield around himself. "I think that'll be all," he finished.

Hermione, with her finger aching, watched in disbelief as he turned on his heel and walked briskly back to the other end of the hall. There he stood stock-still against the wall and stared in front of him as though he was convinced that Grindelwald would be charging out through the portrait of Emeric the Evil at any moment.

_The nerve of him! _Hermione thought angrily, turning her back on him and glaring down the opposite end of the corridor. Really, how do people find him so charming? He was so cold and heartless... even when he was trying to appear polite. And when he was angry – oh, she could just _kill_ him!

_He should count himself lucky that that book didn't belong to her._

Hermione fumed about this the entire night and even a good part of the following morning. _I'll have to think of a way to get past him next week_, she thought to herself senselessly. She didn't have much time to dwell on this, though, because that morning she and Harry finally received a note from Dippet. They were going to be teaching the Patronus Charm again tonight.


	13. Hermione's Lesson

Chapter 12

**Author's note:** Don't worry, I'm alive. Horribly late, but alive. I do apologize... this update took me so long because I really did not feel like writing it. At first this chapter was mostly scenes from ch 13, (because I really did not care to write about Hermione's lesson), but then I decided that I should add more... and pretty soon my chapter became 10,000 words long and I had to figure out where to split it... And then I didn't like some of what I wrote so I spent forever trying to change it... (yeah, yeah, I know – excuses, excuses).

Another thing that has been keeping me busy as of late is my new story: if you haven't heard already, I'm starting to write another Tom/Hermione fic called, _Far From Home_. I'm really excited about this one... partly because it takes place somewhere other than Hogwarts for once... anyway, you should check it out. It's only two chapters so far, but they are two chapters that I like more than any of the chapters in this story (which, by the way, I won't be abandoning).

And, as always, thank you SO MUCH for the reviews. I'll try to respond in a more timely matter this time... promise :D

* * *

Chapter 12

Hermione's Lesson

The library was cold and damp, and as Hermione moved passed the countless rows of books she pulled her robes closer to her chest. It was dark in here and, as far as she could tell, empty. She assumed that everyone was already down at dinner (for who would waste their time here when they could be eating warm, freshly cooked food?) Wanting to join her classmates as soon as possible, Hermione moved quickly. With any luck, her job in here would only take a few minutes.

Knowing exactly where to go, Hermione gazed up at the room around her. It was just as she remembered it in her own time: the large, vaulted ceilings, the ancient, wooden tables, and the myriad books – all in the same familiar places. She saw the same support pillars, the same alcoves, even the same portraits on the walls. As she walked her heels clicked in the same way on the same stone floor, a _clip clop, clip clop _that she had grown accustom to so long ago.

Yet with all this familiarity, Hermione felt somewhat _off_ being here. Perhaps it was because the students who regularly used this library were not the same friends and classmates she had grown up with. Perhaps it was because the books in here were relatively outdated compared to the ones she had been used to. Or maybe it was because many of the dark arts literature in the restricted section had not yet been banned by Dumbledore.

Whatever the reason, though, this was not the warm, welcoming library that she had known throughout her adolescence. This was not her home, nor was it her refuge. _This_ library was cold, and even a bit foreboding; she felt strange and out of place here. And for this reason, she wanted to get out as quickly as possible.

She checked her watch. It was 6:28. She had approximately half an hour until she needed to be in the Great Hall; hopefully, that would be more than enough time to find what she needed.

It shouldn't take her too long – she was here for one book, and one book in particular: _A History Through Time of the Defensive Arts_. That had been the textbook that Riddle Vanished last night. She had no particular need for it – other than the fact that it was a library book and needed returning – but she was desperate to know where he had Vanished it _to_. He had not simply Banished it somewhere – that was the opposite of a Summoning charm and would be the effect of Riddle sending it someplace in particular. Had it been Banished, Hermione would have seen it physically move off into the distance to Riddle's chosen destination.

No, the book had literally Vanished, from right beneath her very hands. One minute it was there, the next it wasn't. That got her thinking: where did Vanished objects go? Do they go to a specific destination? Do they return to their place of origin? Though Hermione knew how to perform the charm, she had no memory of ever learning _where_ the Vanished objects actually went.

So, as soon as she returned to her room last night she checked through all of her belongings in case the book had been sent back there. Coming up empty-handed, she then proceeded to check her Advanced Charms text to see if it could shed any light on the situation. Unfortunately, it hadn't.

The next logical plan of action would be to check the library, the place it had originated from, and that is why she was here now. She was going to search the Defense Against the Dark Arts section until, hopefully, she found the book. If it wasn't here, well, she didn't know where else she could possibly look.

She finally found the row on Defensive Magic and squinted at the array of books. It dark in here; her only source of light were the muted shafts crossing the room from the windows on the opposite wall. The day was dull and rainy, though, so the grey beams quickly dispersed through the dusty air and left her with little reading light.

Pushing strands of hair out of her eyes, Hermione lit her wand and began skimming.

"_A History Through Time of the Defensive Arts,"_ she murmured, tracing a finger down the row of books. "_A History Through Time of the Defensive Arts_..." She walked slowly to the middle of the section, finding the same shelf she remembered borrowing the book from. "_A History Through Time of the Defensive Arts..."_

She frowned. It wasn't in its spot. There was its predecessor, and after that was the book which followed hers alphabetically. She looked quickly to the next shelf – perhaps it had been misplaced?

But it wasn't there either.

Her irritation growing every moment, Hermione proceeded to look through each shelf in the Defense Against the Dark Arts section. There were, of course, other books that looked just as interesting, and even some that looked very similar to hers. There was a big, red textbook with a crumbling spine called, _The History of Defensive Magic in the Post-Renaissance World_; a few shelves down there was a slightly newer book, its brown cover comparable to hers that read, _Defensive Spells of the Twentieth Century_. But after some time of searching she was forced to conclude that _A History Through Time of the Defensive Arts_ was not anywhere in this section of the library.

"_Damnit, Riddle_," she spat bitterly at the books.

She glared at the empty spot that should have been filled. Why did he have to do this? Couldn't he have just _taken_ the book? Summoned it from her hands? _Grabbed_ it from her physically? But no; he had to be _flashy_... he had to work the more _complicated_ spell... he had to make sure that she wouldn't find it.

If this was his plan, it was certainly working. Because, she now had to admit, she had _no idea_ where it was.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

Hermione jumped as the new, slightly scratchy voice interrupted her thoughts. Her heart racing, she turned around to see the librarian, a tiny old woman with white hair, standing at the end of the row. She seemed to have more wrinkles than anyone Hermione had ever seen in her life. In the shadows she looked positively ghastly, and the sight made the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stand on end.

"No, that's alright," she said, her voice a bit higher than normal. "I'm fine."

The lady, though horribly decrepit, nodded kindly. "Well if there's anything that I can help you with, anything at all, just let me know..."

Hermione bit her lip. It _was_ a stretch, but...

"Actually, wait."

The librarian, who had been walking back to the front of the room, turned around at Hermione's voice.

"I was wondering if you had a certain book. Perhaps you've gotten it in recently... it's called _A History Through Time of the Defensive Arts._"

She frowned, thinking about Hermione's question, probably mentally processing the status of her Defense collection. "No, I believe that particular book is currently checked out at the moment. I can put your name on a waiting list if you want..." She reached into her robes to pull out a record book.

"No, that's okay – don't bother. I'll come back another time." Hermione backed down the row and out through the other side before the librarian could argue or ask for a name. She wasn't really disappointed at this new bit of information; in fact, after finding it missing from its shelf, she expected it. She supposed she would have to think of something else tomorrow. Perhaps she would ask a professor...

Hermione checked her watch again; it was 7:03. She sighed. Not only was her book still missing, but she was already late to give her lesson on the Patronus Charm. Hitching her bag back up over her shoulder, she left the library as quickly was possible, and sprinted down the corridor towards the Great Hall.

xxxxxxxxxx

Hermione raced into the Great Hall, finding it to be mostly empty; dinner was over, all the students had gone, and only the defense class was left.

Everyone was standing in groups, the prefects in various spots near the front of the room and the professors all around the staff table. Hermione saw Harry and made her way over to where he was standing.

"Hey," he said when she arrived, "you're late. Where did you go?"

She shrugged, nonchalantly. "Oh, just to the library. I needed to look up something about the Patronus Charm." Harry didn't know about what had happened last night, and she planned to keep it that way; she didn't particularly like conversing with him about Riddle.

"But we were practicing all afternoon."

"I know, but I needed one more thing."

"Oh?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Yes." She looked around. Changing the subject she said, "Where's Dippet? I don't see him."

Harry frowned. "He's not here. He didn't show up for dinner, either... I don't know where he is."

"That's odd..." Dippet was missing an awful lot these days – what _was_ he up to?

"I hope he plans on showing up tonight," he continued.

"He will," Hermione said. "He wants to learn Patronus Communication. Remember how excited he was when he saw mine?"

Harry agreed and she stared off into the distance, wondering about Dippet's whereabouts. Perhaps he was having trouble with the Ministry, or with the parents. He was probably meeting a lot of resistance about the lock-down...

She must have had a worried look about her face because Harry said, "are you sure you're alright, Hermione?"

"Yes," she said distractedly. She looked about the room, trying to see if everyone else was here.

"Because you know you _are_ ready for this."

"Mmhm..." She could see all of the professors, but she hadn't didn't know all of the prefects yet. How many of them were there? Twenty? Thirty?

"Honestly, you're going to do a great job."

"Sure." Well, regardless, there seemed to be the right amount of people around. They were probably all just waiting for Dippet. Which reminded her, she still needed to give him the outlined lesson plans...

"Don't worry about it. Trust me on this one, okay?"

"_Okay, _Harry. Just drop it, alright?"

He frowned at her. "Jeeze, sorry. I just wanted to make sure that you were going to be okay."

Hermione, a bit irritated, finally tore her gaze from the group of professors to face Harry. Dropping her voice to little more than a whisper she said, "I'm fine, really. Last week just... took me off guard, okay?" She felt her face grow hot. "And remember, we've been practicing every day. I would think that I'm ready by now."

He gave her a look that clearly said he didn't believe her, but didn't say anything.

She crossed her arms. _That's right; you _better _keep your mouth shut._

Unwilling to hear more of Harry's pep talk, Hermione said that she was going to stretch her legs and wander for a few minutes.

As she meandered about, many of the prefects practiced conjuring their Patronuses; they were evidently very excited about learning to send messages to one another. She supposed that, to them, this was going to be some kind of fun game. It was like a sort of magical walkie-talkie that none of the rest of their friends would have access to. They would be able to hold conversations with one another from opposite ends of the castle... they might even figure out how to do it during class. She could only imagine what kind of trouble this would cause.

"Hey Hermione!" A prefect called out to her and she turned, seeing a grinning Ravenclaw with his macaw Patronus perched on his shoulder. "What do you think? I've been practicing all week!" The silvery macaw gave her a curious look and proceeded to scratch its head with its foot.

"That's great, Jack, really great..." Hermione flashed him a smile and made to get back over to Harry. As she turned she bumped straight into someone.

"_Oof_." He grunted as Hermione's head collided with his shoulder. She looked up and saw the long, arrogant face of Tom Riddle staring at her haughtily, as if to demand an explanation for her clumsiness.

Seeing him stirred up memories from the night before, and Hermione felt a burning sensation in the pit of her stomach. She thought, for a split second, of asking what he did with her book – maybe he knew where Vanished objects went to – but immediately decided against it. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeming desperate. Instead, she focused determinedly on his pair of cold, dark eyes, snipped a curt "excuse me," and maneuvered her way around his body and back to where Harry was standing.

Harry must have seen her with Riddle because he asked, "How was your watch last night with Riddle?"

She sighed. "You know, the usual."

He nodded in agreement. "It's too bad Dumbledore wouldn't let you switch. You should ask Dippet."

She made a noncommittal noise. "Yeah, maybe."

To her relief, their conversation was then cut short. Just as Harry was about to reply, the doors to the Great Hall were pushed open and in walked Dippet, looking quite harrowed. The man looked as though he hadn't slept in days: his hair, perhaps a bit grayer than when Hermione had last seen him, was tousled, and his robes were disheveled. He seemed to be in a dream-like state as he crossed the room. Eventually making his way up to the staff table, he started to converse quietly with Dumbledore. Hermione, slightly shocked at his appearance, edged a bit closer to hear what was going on.

"What?" Dippet was saying irritably. "No, no. I've got everything under control."

Hermione turned to Harry and mouthed, '_everything under control?'_

He shrugged and pointed to Dippet, who was massaging the bridge of his nose. Dumbledore was saying something too low for Hermione to hear, and then Dippet shook his head.

"I said no. It's fine, Albus, _fine_."

Dumbledore shrugged. Raising his voice he said, "well, then, don't you think we should start?"

Dippet jerked his head up, as though noticing his audience for the first time. He eyed the group and said, "yes, yes... I suppose we should." Then he raised his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Well?" He asked the crowd. "Are we all here?"

All around him heads nodded.

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Where's Miss Wilkins?"

Between wondering about Dippet and Riddle, Hermione had almost forgotten that she was supposed to teach the lesson. The mention of her name, though, interrupted her musings and she looked up to see everyone staring back in her direction.

She blushed. "I'm... here. Right here, Professor." And she carefully picked her way through the crowd, up to where the professors were all standing. As she emerged, Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Are you ready, Miss Wilkins?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. She didn't particularly want to do this; not only was she still slightly nervous about messing up, but she felt guilty as well. A part of her knew that this was wrong: in just a few moments she would be parting with a well-kept Order secret. This was a modern skill, one that Dumbledore certainly hadn't devised until the latter part of the century. No matter how she reasoned it in her mind, this was messing with the flow of time.

But there was nothing really she could do about it, was there? Everyone was waiting for her; she couldn't just walk out. Her eyes quickly swept the room. There were the professors, all looking inquisitive and excited; the exhausted-looking Dippet, who appeared to have dragged himself away from something extremely important just to hear what she had to say; the prefects, some looking slightly nervous; Riddle, seeming vague and bored as usual; and Harry, smiling at her in encouragement and giving her the thumbs up to go on.

She sighed. She really had no choice.Clearing her throat, she began.

"Alright, then. So you all learned the Patronus Charm last week."

As everyone nodded her eyes lingered on Riddle. He was staring at her impassively and she wondered briefly if he had made an effort to practice during the week.

She tore her gaze from his and continued. "So today I'll show you how to use them as a form of communication."

Though no one said anything, the atmosphere in the room practically screamed _"get on with it, already!"_ Sensing their restlessness, Hermione stopped beating around the bush and started her well-rehearsed speech.

"Once you know the basic theory, adding on this different element isn't too difficult. In fact it's very simple – there's really not much to tell. You've still got to focus – that's extremely important – but you've got to focus more on the _feeling_ of being happy, rather than the memory or thought that makes you feel happy. Because essentially, that is the purpose of the memory. It's really just a tool to give you that happy feeling. Now you'll have to get to that feeling without the memory, because at the same time you're going to have to compose the message that you want to send..."

Having finally started, Hermione found that it was easier to go on. The longer she spoke the calmer her nerves felt, and the quieter her conscience sounded. She continued her lecture with more confidence, discussing her theory of how the charm worked. Before she knew it, she was getting into a sort of rhythm. She would explain some of what she had learned over the past week, stop briefly to answer some questions, and then continue on again. Everyone was listening with rapt attention, all eager to start the charm for themselves.

Soon enough they did get their chance. Hermione let them loose to practice and she, Harry, and Dumbledore (who had immediately conjured a silvery, talking phoenix), proceeded to circle the room, coaching those who had yet to succeed.

Unfortunately, this part of the lesson proved to be slightly difficult. Although she, Harry, and Dumbledore had all been able to grasp the concept easily enough, most people were having trouble. Admittedly, a handful of professors managed theirs after only a few tries, but as of halfway through the practice session, none of the students had followed.

Hermione didn't know what to make of this. On one hand, she felt it was her responsibility to make sure everyone learned the charm as best as possible; however, a part of her wanted them to fail and do the flow of time _some _kind of justice.

That is why she didn't take it quite as personally as Dippet when, at the end of the lesson, only two prefects had managed the charm.

He seemed to be quite annoyed at this, in fact. At one point Hermione heard him complaining to Dumbledore.

"I don't know why they're not getting it," he was saying. "This is really important; they need to know how to do this..."

Dumbledore tried to say something consoling but Dippet shook his head. "No; this is a _huge_ problem. It's a matter of school security, Albus." He then proceeded to end the lesson early.

"We'll try this another time," he told everyone impatiently. "Until then, practice on your own." And then he swept through the crowd, and out of the Great Hall.

"Well, that was odd," Harry said, coming up behind Hermione. They both stared curiously as the doors slammed shut.

"There's certainly something going on with him," she agreed.

Everyone was leaving now that Dippet had gone. Hermione told Harry to wait while she went to grab her things. As she jammed her notes back into her bag she remembered that she still hadn't given Dippet her lesson plans. Perhaps she would be able to give them to Dumbledore instead...

She stood up and started to make her way over to where Dumbledore was standing.

"Miss Wilkins, wait!"

Hermione stopped in her tracks and sighed; it was Slughorn – one of the very last people she wanted to talk to right now. He came sidling between two students to meet up with her, and just a moment later he was grasping her hands in a hearty handshake, pulling an arm around her shoulder.

"Wonderful job tonight, Hermione!" he cheered, his round face bright red in excitement. "Really spectacular! I just managed to send a message to Albus!"

"That's great, Professor, really great..." Hermione's voice came out as thin and tired sounding from beneath the grasp of his arm. She tried to detach herself as gently and politely as possible.

"I would have never thought it possible!"

"Nor would I, Professor."

He paused, a sly grin slowly forming on his face. "Now Miss Wilkins, that's no way to talk about a Professor, is it?"

Hermione just smiled, somewhat exasperatedly.

"Ha!" he laughed, slapping her on the back. "A nice sense of humor on this one, that's right. I like students with a good sense of humor. Makes life easier, I always say."

"That's very wise of you, Professor."

He laughed heartily. "Indeed! But seriously, though, I was wondering if I could recruit your help for something."

_Here it comes,_ she thought miserably, knowing exactly where he was going with this. But all she said was, "oh?"

"Yes. After all, you're such an expert on this subject..." He grabbed her shoulder and wheeled her around facing the opposite direction. "See over there?" He pointed across the room to Riddle, who was currently talking genially with Professor Flitwick.

Yes, Hermione told him, she could see.

"Now poor Tom has been doing such a great job, he really is. He's been trying all week. He's having trouble, though, with his Patronus. Can't conjure it. I don't why – he's my best student! This should be easy for him..." He trailed off and gestured helplessly.

Hermione nodded. She too had noticed that the Head Boy was making little headway with this spell, and made a point of avoiding him all night. "That's really unfortunate, Professor. You should tell him to keep practicing. Practice makes perfect, I always say. Now I really need to be going..." She started to edge away as quickly as possible, and for one shining moment she thought she had escaped.

"Hold on, Hermione."

She stopped, her shoulders drooped in defeat. "Yes, Professor?"

_Oh please don't make me go over there. _Please_ don't make me go over there..._

"Would you mind going over there and giving him some advice? You know, perhaps help things along." Slughorn smiled winningly at her.

Hermione sighed. "Well I don't think that's going to help much," she said, desperately trying to make an escape. "Remember last week? There's nothing really I can do. And I still need to talk to Professor Dumbledore about my lesson plans... I really don't have the time." She pulled the stack of notes from the side of her bag. "See?"

"No problem," he said – and for another moment Hermione thought that she had gotten off the hook – but then he reached out and plucked the lesson plans from out of her hands. "I'll make sure Albus gets these," he said.

She began to protest but Slughorn cut her off. "Just for a few minutes," he said firmly, leading the way over to Riddle and Flitwick. Hermione had no choice but to follow him.

"I tried to get your brother to help before, but he didn't seem to hear me..."

As they walked Hermione spotted Harry and sent him a vicious glare. Knowing that he had deserved this, he smiled sheepishly and turned his back. She sighed; how did _he_ always manage to weasel his way out of things like this?

"Riddle! How are you this evening?" Slughorn greeted him cheerfully with a grin and a handshake. Riddle grinned amiably right back. The two looked like old friends.

"I'm doing well, Professor, and you?"

"Just fabulous, m'boy, just fabulous. I was coming over here, actually, to see if you needed any help."

Riddle's smile froze on his face and his eyes, which had almost looked cheerful a moment before, flicked uneasily between Slughorn and Hermione.

"Help?"

"Yes," Slughorn continued. He pushed Hermione slightly forward. "You see, Miss Wilkins has offered her assistance tonight because we've noticed that you've, ah, been _lagging _behind everyone else. Now no one's holding it against you, of course, but we were thinking that if you two talked for a bit you might get the spell quicker. What do you say?"

Riddle said nothing, but kept smiling rigidly.

Slughorn clapped him on the back. "Great! Let me know about any progress you make!" And then he turned to Professor Flitwick and the two walked off, chatting lightly.

Hermione and Riddle just stood there, looking at one another. His smile, which had frozen only moments before, slowly faded, and before long he was staring at her with cold disdain. She could almost felt a chill in the atmosphere.

"I don't need help," he finally said.

Hermione was about to agree and walk off – she didn't want to be even _near_ Riddle, never mind _speak_ to him and give him _advice_ – but something in his tone of voice stopped her. He was so full of himself, so nasty... If she were to leave right now he would, as usual, be getting his way. Hermione didn't want to let him off the hook that easily; she wanted to draw attention to the fact that he was failing, make him feel as uncomfortable as she felt the night before...

So she retaliated.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I _do_ believe that Slughorn has requested my help on your behalf. That, along with the fact that no one in this room has yet seen you conjure a corporeal Patronus, would imply that yes, you do in fact need help." She crossed her arms, daring his to disagree.

Riddle continued to stare at her, that haughty expression never leaving his face. He seemed to be considering what to make out of her. After a moment that seemed to drag on forever, he spoke.

"Professor Slughorn is wrong to assume that I need help on this matter. You are also wrong to assume that Slughorn knows what's best for my well-being."

"If he's so _wrong_," she persisted, "then why don't just _show_ me your Patronus?"

A few moments of silence rang on in which Riddle did not respond.

Hermione nodded. "That's what I thought." A pause. "Riddle, _why _do you refuse help when you so obviously need it?"

Another moment passed. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. When he spoke it was in a soft, yet somewhat threatening voice, only loud enough for Hermione to hear.

"_'Why do I refuse help,'_ you ask? Why?" he said. "I'll tell you why, Wilkins. Even if I _did_ need your help, I wouldn't want it. I don't want to be here right now, and I don't want to listen to you tell me what to do. And I'm sure as hell that you don't want to be here, either. So why don't you do us both a favor and just leave?"

Hermione just looked at him, not knowing how to respond.

"I'm sure your time is better spent elsewhere," he continued. "...Perhaps cavorting with your, ah, _twin_ brother?" He gave Hermione a _look_ that told her he knew that they were not related. "Or maybe – and _do_ forgive me if I'm wrong – but just _maybe_ you'd like to continue damning my name in the privacy of an – _apparently_ – empty library? I'm sure you find that to be _very_ entertaining, although how it is useful, I'm still not sure..."

Hermione's mouth fell slightly open. Had he been following her?

Riddle gazed at her in solemn disapproval. "Yes, I see we have reached an agreement about this? There are no arguments, then? Good, good – let's go; we don't want to waste precious time."

That perpetual look of arrogance and disdain never leaving his face, he jerked his head in Hermione's direction and turned to walk away. After only a few steps, though, he paused and looked back at her.

"Oh, by the way," he said casually, as though the thought just struck him, "you won't find it there." And then he turned around and left.

Hermione just stood there in shock. Her nerves were electrified; every single one of them was standing on end, ablaze with anger. She didn't know what she was more indignant about: the fact that he had been spying on her or simply the arrogant way in which he carried himself. She wanted to yell out to him, berate him for being such a... a _jerk_, tell him to mind his own business... but she waited a second too long. The moment had passed; Riddle was now talking with Professor Merrythought, shaking her hand, laughing quietly about some kind of inside joke.

But inside her mind she was screaming at him. She had never, _ever_, met anyone so infuriating! He was so _arrogant,_ so _condescending_, so blatantly _rude_ to her... and yet, there he was, laughing with the professor as if they were old friends. He was so polite, so respectful, and it was all an act. _A damn act that actually worked._

Harry's words echoed in her mind.

_"It makes me sick to think that he got so much of what he wanted because he was able to act all charming whenever he damn well felt like it."_

For the first time ever, Hermione thought he made a good point.


	14. An Anonymous Letter

**Author's Note: **An update – gasp! Okay, okay, I know I'm, well, about a year late with this update, but if you read my author's page, you'll see that I have (what I think is) a pretty good excuse. Anyway, right now there is no writer's block, no loss of chapters, and no failed attempts at rewrites, so I promise that my next update will come a bit sooner than August 2010. Well, I hope that my extended leave of absence hasn't completely turned you all off to this story, and that you enjoy!

* * *

An Anonymous Letter

Riddle was everywhere.

He was always in the library, walking down the corridors, eating in the Great Hall; not to mention the fact that he was in _every single one_ of Hermione's classes. And then of course, she had the distinct pleasure of patrolling the corridors with him every Sunday night. Just when she thought she had gotten rid of him, there he was, chatting with Professor Merrythought. A moment later, he was holding a set of doors open for tiny Professor Flitwick. She couldn't eat breakfast without seeing him swarmed by his followers; she couldn't study in the library without watching him taking notes from a book; hell, she couldn't even go for a _pee_ without running into him on the way to the bathroom.

She was going to go crazy.

Had Riddle always been this omnipresent, or did Hermione's sudden hatred of him make her supersensitive to his every move?

That's not to say she didn't hate him before – he would grow up to become Lord Voldemort, of course she hated him – but now his attitude made everything ten times worse. Why did it seem like he was singling her out? Why was he was nice and pleasant to everyone else, but acted rude and sarcastic towards Hermione? In fact, he seemed to hate her as much as she hated him.

The worst part, though, was that no one knew. No one had any inkling of what Riddle was to become. Even Dumbledore, who had been "keeping an eye" on Hogwart's star pupil for past six years, could not fathom the depths to which Riddle would sink in the Dark Arts. Everyone thought he was such a model student, so charming and polite and smart – yet reserved and humble at the same time. And he played the part perfectly, so how could anyone doubt him? If Hermione hadn't known about his future, she probably would have been deceived, too.

" –ermione… HERMIONE!"

Hermione blinked and focused her attention from the Slytherin table to Harry, who apparently had been waving a hand in front of her face.

_"What?"_

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'what?' I just asked what floor you were patrolling tonight. Haven't you been listening to anything I've just said?"

In reality, Hermione hadn't been aware that she had been on the receiving end of a one-sided conversation, but she didn't mention this. How could she possibly pay attention to what Harry was saying when Riddle was sitting _right across the room?_

She looked over at the Slytherin table again and resisted the urge to scowl. Riddle sat in the middle of a group of what looked like the surliest and most unpleasant students Slytherin House had to offer. Hermione recognized a few faces: Lestrange and Avery, the future Death Eaters; Purkiss, the girl who was as nasty as her name sounded; then there were a few who she did not know by name, but recognized as those who taunted younger students in the corridors. Overall, she concluded, it was a formidable group of people.

Hermione had just been noticing that none of these students ever spoke to Riddle at the Slytherine table; and likewise, he never spoke to them. In fact, now that she thought about it, Riddle was always silent during meals. He always sat rigidly in his chair, eating stiffly, as though observed by someone grading his table manners. He cut his meat slowly, taking small, careful bites, dabbing the corner of his mouth afterwards. For some bizarrely unknown reason, this made Hermione hate him even more. Who was he to be _so perfect?_ Why couldn't he break his stupid facade for _one moment_ and slouch in his chair or chew with his mouth open? Why did, out of all the people in the school, Lord Voldemort have to always set the best example? It was infuriating, really, and she –

"Hermione!"

The sound of Harry's voice brought Hermione back from her reverie and she snapped her eyes back to the Gryffindor table. Harry had finished his breakfast and was leaning back, eyeing her carefully. "Are you okay?" he said.

Hermione gave a stiff nod. "Of course I'm okay." She turned back to her plate and discovered that she had already finished her food.

"It's just… you've been daydreaming a lot, recently."

She looked up. "I have?"

"Yes. It's not like you."

"Well, I have a lot on my mind, Harry, as I'm sure you do, too. We're kind of in a… strange situation here." She put down her fork and snuck another glance over at the Slytherin table. Riddle was still in the midst of his Death Eater posse, contributing nothing to the conversation. Was he even listening to the others, or was he busy scheming his next Dark maneuver?

"You've been staring at the Slytherins a lot, recently…."

Hermione suddenly found herself irritated at Harry's prying. "So what, I'm not allowed to look at the Slytherins anymore?" When Harry frowned at her she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "_Or,_ are you afraid that my time spent patrolling the corridors with Riddle have tempted me over to the dark side? Think that I might become _one of them_?"

"Don't be stupid, Hermione; of course I don't think that."

"Then what are you suggesting?"

Harry raised his hands defensively. "Nothing! I was just observing in you an uncharacteristic aloofness that happened to coincide with a sudden interest in the Slytherins. I didn't mean anything by it. Seriously," he added at the _look_ Hermione shot him.

"If you must know," she said tersely, "I've just been thinking about the _situation _that… inadvertently… led us to this predicament."

"Oh."

"Of course that causes my mind to wander to a few Slytherins."

"Of course."

"And I hope you don't find anything wrong with that."

"No, not at all. It's just…" He shrugged.

Hermione stared at him coldly. "Just _what?"_

"It's not a big deal. Forget I said anything."

"_What_, Harry?"

He paused, staring down the table. A group of seventh year Gryffindors sat at the end, eating in silence; they were probably still upset over Julie's death. After watching them for a moment, Harry turned back to Hermione.

"Ever since your Patronus lesson you've been acting strange, Hermione. I don't know what it is, but it's been over two weeks and you've barely said a word to me and you're avoiding everyone, and you just don't seem interested in things anymore!"

Hermione's opened her mouth, wanting to disagree, but she couldn't think of a good argument.

Harry continued. "I've tried to talk to you about what happened, but you won't hear a word of it. You haven't come up with a single theory in weeks. And Hermione, you haven't even been paying attention in class! It's just _so strange_, and I wish I knew what was bothering you…." He shrugged, defeated looking.

"You wish you knew what was bothering me?" Hermione repeated, her voice several octaves higher than usual. "What's bothering me, _Harry_, is that we are quite far from home right now, and I don't know how this has happened and I don't know how we can possibly get back! And Dumbledore doesn't know either, and no one knows what's happened to Ron." She paused, noticing that a few Gryffindors had stopped their conversations to listen in. After casting a quick _muffliato_, Hermione continued. "Don't you wonder what's happened to Ron?" she hissed. "Don't you wonder what's going to happen to us if we can't find a way home? How could we possibly go on living our lives, not knowing what happened to our friends and our family? How can you go on and care about things like whether or not I'm answering questions in class? Just because I haven't thought of any new theories lately doesn't mean that I'm not thinking about our _situation_."

Harry pursed his lips, and said nothing.

At that moment, the morning post arrived. Because Hermione had no reason to ever expect mail, she always ignored the flock of owls that circled daily around the heads of students. Lately she had been taken to observing the Slytherin table instead, watching to see if Riddle ever received mail. He never did, but Hermione was curious anyway to see if he ever would made contact with wizards outside Hogwarts.

While Hermione was still watching the Slytherin table, something big and feathery almost flew into her face. She ducked, and looked up just in time to see an unusual-looking black owl circle around her and Harry's heads, and then drop a letter between their plates.

She glanced at Harry, who looked just as surprised as she felt, before snatching the piece of mail away from the butter dish. The envelope was small, and on the front was written the words "Harry and Hermione." Wondering who could have possibly written to them, Hermione tore open the envelope and removed a yellowed piece of parchment. On the middle of the page were written five words.

_I know where you're from._

A chill ran Hermione's spine as she read the letter over again. _'I know where you're from?'_ What did that mean? A million possibilities ran through her head, though none of them made sense.

"Well?" Harry asked. "Who is it from?" When Hermione didn't answer he reached across the table and plucked the letter from between her hands. He stared at it for a long moment before saying, "It's not signed."

"Nice observation, Sherlock," Hermione responded dryly.

Harry looked up over the top of the parchment and narrowed his eyes. "Who do you think it could be from?"

"I don't know. Who knows where we're from?"

Harry frowned and looked back at the letter. "I don't think they really know that," he said quietly. "Whoever this is, they're probably just trying to get information, or maybe trying to scare us."

Hermione considered this. "Maybe…" she said slowly. "Can I see it again?" Harry handed her back the letter and she scanned the words once more, searching for some sort of clue, anything that would give away the sender. "Did you see the owl that dropped it?" she said after a moment.

"Of course," he said. "It almost impaled itself between your eyes."

"It was a big, black owl."

"Yes."

"Well," she said, "it wasn't a school owl."

"And your point is…?"

Hermione paused. "That means it can't have come from a student," she said finally.

Harry looked at her skeptically. "So? People bring their own owls to school." His eyes refused to meet hers for a moment and Hermione knew that he was remembering Hedwig.

"Yes, but I've never seen _this _owl around here before." She lowered her voice and, forgetting about the _muffliato_ charm, leaned across the table so no one but Harry could hear. "I don't think this owl came from anyone at school."

An uneasy silence passed between them as they considered this.

"Hermione," he said after a time, "I know I've come up with some pretty wild theories of my own in the past but this… this just doesn't make sense."

"Why not?"

"Well, for starters, no one knows that we're here. If no one knows that we're here, how could they know where we're really from? And do we even know anyone outside of school right now?" He shook his head. "I'm telling you, this is probably just someone's idea of a bad joke."

Hermione thought back to every encounter she and Harry had had with people who were unaffiliated with Hogwarts. There was the Hogsmeade trip, and when they had first apparated to Diagon Alley… but had they actually interacted with anyone during those instances?

"Why," she said, "would someone at school go through the trouble of sending us this letter? And why now? We've been here for over two months, Harry, and no one's paid us the least bit of attention before." Her mind, however, wandered back to that incident with Lestrange and Avery. Was it possible that they could have found out something?

"It might be You-Know-Who," he said darkly. "I wouldn't put it past him."

And the conversation had finally turned itself back to Riddle. How did this always happen?

Harry continued. "I bet he has sources on the outside. Or maybe he used some kind of Dark magic to find out…."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry," she said firmly, "let's not talk about this right now." Not wanting discuss Riddle with Harry, she folded the mysterious piece of parchment and slid it into her pocket. "This isn't the most appropriate time."

He glanced at the students around him. Many of them were gone already, or picking up and leaving their unfinished breakfasts behind. Although no one was paying them any attention, he agreed. "If you say so…."

Though they didn't speak of it again, Hermione spent the remainder of the day pondering about their mysterious correspondent. She and Harry took refuge in the Room of Requirement that morning; while Harry used the time to finish a Transfiguration essay, Hermione sat in an armchair, staring out into space. Occasionally she would take the note out from her pocket and stare again the words. However, no new meaning jumped out at her, no matter how long she stared at. She tried to decipher the handwriting – the untidy scrawl seemed somewhat familiar, but she could not place the author. Maybe the familiarity of the words meant that the letter had come from a student at Hogwarts after all.

After lunch, Hermione spent her time in the library, and then the Gryffindor common room. Although she felt completely foolish doing so, she situated herself next to various students throughout the afternoon. Under the pretense of getting some work done, or even asking about a class assignment, she would steal a glance at the student's notes. No one's handwriting, though, matched the handwriting on the letter.

She had almost given up her search – the day was drawing near a close and it was just about time to patrol the corridors with Riddle – when she sat down next to Charlus Potter on one of the squashy couches in the Gryffindor common room. He was busy taking notes from his Charms book and Hermione tried to glance at them as surreptitiously as possible. Before she could get a good look, though, he slammed the book closed and gave a loud sigh.

"I can't concentrate," he announced.

Hermione snapped her gaze back up from his book and looked around innocently.

One of the seventh year girls, Mary, was lounging in front of the fireplace. "I know what you mean," she said, her Potions book in her lap. "I haven't been able to concentrate properly on anything since, well… _you know_." She cast her eyes on the ground and uneasy silence passed between them.

"That's not what I meant," Charlus finally said. "Did you see the _Prophet_ this morning?"

Mary frowned and sat up. "No. What happened?"

He reached into his back pocket and unfolded a copy of the _Daily Prophet._ "Here," he said, tossing it on the coffee table so Mary could see. Hermione leaned over and saw on the front page a large picture of a middle-aged man surrounded by hooded figures. The man in the middle was blonde, and his face hadn't been wearing such an unpleasant expression, Hermione would have said that he was quite attractive for his age. After a moment, she recognized him as an older version of the adolescent pictured with her old headmaster in _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore._

"That's Grindelwald," Hermione said.

Charlus nodded gravely. "And look where he is."

The figures in the picture were walking down a cobbled street. Although Grindelwald himself wasn't paying the camera any attention, the others kept jeering at the cameraman, making rude gestures. She looked at the caption.

_"He's in London?"_ she said.

Mary sat up. "London?" she repeated. "He's in the _country?_"

"I know," Charlus said. "There's been more reports of Muggle attacks, and Muggle-born disappearances, and now he's actually been sighted. I thought it was just his followers making trouble here. Everyone thought Grindelwald was more interested in overtaking his own country, but apparently that's not the case. He's here. And _that's_ why I can't concentrate."

Mary stared at the paper, her mouth agape. Hermione shook her head. "That's impossible," she muttered. "Grindelwald never…" She stopped herself.

They both looked at her curiously. "Grindelwald never _what_?" Charlus asked.

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly. "I'm just surprised. I never thought that he would actually come to London, that's all."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he said, leaning back with his hands behind his head. "The war's really starting to get serious here. It's scary." He stared off into space.

Hermione glanced at her watch. Although she had no desire to leave, it was time for her to start patrolling the sixth floor corridor with Riddle. "Charlus," she said, getting up, "I need to go. Can I borrow your copy of the _Prophet_? I'd like to read this article."

"Sure," he said. "I'm done with it. Enjoy."

"Thanks." Hermione took the paper and waved goodbye to him and Mary before setting out for the sixth floor.

Now, in addition to the mysterious letter, Hermione had something else on her mind: Grindelwald was in the country? And since when did he visit London? Hermione racked her brain, trying to remember the chapter on Grindelwald in Bathilda Bagshot's _A_ _History of Magic_. She was certain that the book had never mentioned a trip of Grindelwald's into London. In fact, she was certain that Grindelwald never came to England at all. Okay, maybe some of his followers had stirred up trouble here; maybe Bathilda had glossed over that fact. But Hermione was quite sure that Grindelwald had never dared to leave northern Europe himself. Probably unwilling to cross paths with Dumbledore again, he kept the war do his own country. So what was he doing here now?

When Hermione reached her patrol spot, she sank to the floor, opened the paper in her lap, and started to read.

**Grindelwald Begins His London Campaign?**

_Gellert Grindelwald was spotted for the first time in London yesterday with a small group of supporters. While the nature of this visit is not yet confirmed, Ministry officials hint that Grindelwald was in correspondence with the Minister of Magic throughout the day. No violence was associated with this trip; however, many are worried that Grindelwald will soon begin his campaign of Muggle-born purification in the United Kingdom. Some speculators even suggest that Grindelwald is planning a world-wide unveiling of the wizarding community, an act which would severely breach the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy. Drafted in 1692 by the International Confederation of Wizards, this decree…_

"Ahem."

Hermione looked up from the paper and saw Tom Riddle standing overhead, his mouth pursed and arms tightly crossed. She frowned, remembering that she currently despised the boy. What with that day's mysterious letter and unsettling Grindelwald news, Hermione had almost forgotten about her vanished book and his attitude at the last defense meeting. Recalling how it had annoyed him last time, Hermione remained sitting with her legs crossed as she spoke.

"May I help you?"

He stared at her coldly, his gaze sharp enough to carve a hole through the back of her head. "What are you doing?" he eventually asked.

"Reading the paper," she said simply.

He arched an eyebrow. "I thought we discussed this already."

"Discussed what?"

A tinge of pink colored his cheeks. "Reading. More specifically, reading when you are _supposed _to be standing guard."

Hermione surveyed him from her spot on the floor. "I'm catching up with news on the war," she said brusquely. "Considering that we're supposed to be keeping a look out for Grindelwald and all, this might actually be relevant."

"And you couldn't have done this earlier?"

"No. I couldn't."

He said nothing. The two looked at each other for a long moment. And then, because she knew that Riddle was going to cast the Vanishing Charm before he even opened his mouth, Hermione stood and pulled her wand from beneath her robes.

_"Protego!"_ she cried, just as Riddle made the movement to Vanish her newspaper. Her Shield Charm, having been practiced to the point of perfection during the days of horcrux-hunting, was so strong that it not only protected her from the spell, but also repelled it back at Riddle. There was a flash of white light and a split second later Riddle's Head Boy badge, which had been perched pristinely upon his chest only a moment ago, was gone.

He looked down at his chest, and for the briefest moment Hermione saw a look of surprise flash across his features. But just as quickly as it had come, the moment of weakness was gone. Riddle's face turned stony once more as he looked slowly back at Hermione. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. His temple was throbbing visibly from where she stood, and Hermione suddenly regretted her moment of rebellious behavior.

Finally, he spoke. "Your behavior at this school has been entirely and utterly inappropriate. Not only have you refused to follow orders, you have shown impudence and a complete disregard for authority. I shall have you reported to Dippet immediately, and I can _assure you_ that this will not happen again." His voice was low and dangerous, and it sent chills down Hermione's spine. She stood rooted to the ground, petrified. What had she been thinking, to provoke Lord Voldemort? Here they were, in a deserted corridor with no eye witnesses… he could easily take her out and have someone else blamed for the murder. She wanted to run, but something held her back.

"Dippet does not tolerate liars," he continued, "and neither do I." He took a step closer, and she suddenly realized how much taller than she he was. Her heart began to pound furiously in her chest and she knew she should get out of his way…. _"You ungrateful little –" _And he raised his wand and Hermione, out of defense and pure fear for her life, raised hers, too.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ she cried, before he could even open his mouth. His wand twitched, but Riddle seemed to have better reflexes than she thought. He stared at her in either disbelief or rage, or perhaps a combination of the two. And then, before Hermione could defend herself, his wand flashed and she felt a blow across her face, not unlike a slap. She reached up and, feeling where her cheek smarted the most, drew back blood on the tips of her fingers.

Riddle's face was bright red. "_Wilkins…_" he said between clenched teeth.

But Hermione didn't let him finish. _"Langlock!"_

And the rest of Riddle's sentence was muffled by the sound of him choking on his own tongue.

Hermione took advantage of this distraction and bolted, trying to get as far away from Riddle as possible. As much as she hated him, as much as she wanted to curse that smug look off his face, she couldn't possibly allow herself to fight him. This had to stop now, before things got too out of hand….

Halfway down the corridor she realized that silencing Riddle would not stop him from performing magic. Then, as if on cue, she heard his quick, sharp steps as he ran after her. Hermione found that her feet wouldn't move anymore and, her body still propelled forward, she tripped and fell heavily to the ground. The newspaper flew out of her hands and lay in the darkness, forgotten. Riddle approached her, his wand arm raised once again, and Hermione panicked.

_"Avis!" _

A flock of birds burst forth from her wand and with another sweeping motion they turned to attack Riddle. Still unable to speak, he roared his anger, swatting away the birds, but it was no use; they continued the attack, resiliently pecking away at his face and forearms.

Hermione picked herself from off the ground. "Keep away, Riddle," she warned, backing away. Her wand was trained directly on his chest. "Just stay away from me, and I'll let them go."

Riddle gave her a murderous look and continued shoo the birds. The exposed skin on his hands and face was bloody from their attack. A moment later he slashed his wand and the birds fell still to the ground.

_"How dare you…"_ he snarled. Apparently the Langlock curse had worn off, reprieving him the gift of speech.

"How dare me?!" Hermione repeated. "Speak for yourself! Look what you did to _me!_" She pointed to her face, which still smarted.

"I have the authority to hand out punishments as I see fit."

"No you don't," she retorted. "You have the authority to take points away, not physically abuse students!"

"Fifty points from Gryffindor!" he spat.

Hermione laughed derisively. "And you think I actually care about that? Come on Riddle; we both know there are more important things in the world than the House Cup."

He glowered at her.

"You intolerable _swine!_" Purple flames shot from the end of his wand and Hermione jumped out of the way, just missing them.

"_Stop it_, Riddle. I don't want to fight you."

But he didn't listen; his wand slashed again, and this time the flames grazed the surface of Hermione's skin. She felt a searing pain and cried out. Riddle took a step forward, whether or not to finish the job, she didn't know, but Hermione stopped him in his tracks once again.

_"Furnunculus!"_

Horrible, shiny pustules erupted all over his face and Riddle clutched at his head as he gasped in pain.

"That's it!" he wheezed. "I am personally going to make sure that you leave this school _immediately!_ You and your brother are going to be out of Hogwarts faster than you can say 'Grindelwald!'" He paused to shoot another jet of light at Hermione, who deflected it with a flick of her wand. "Your game of smoke and mirrors has gone on far too long, and I _refuse_ to put up with it any longer!"

"Smoke and mirrors?" Hermione repeated, feigning ignorance. She jumped sideways, narrowly escaping yet another curse. "I don't know what you're talking about, Riddle!"

"Oh you know exactly what I'm talking about," he sneered. "You and your 'brother' – you've been spitting out lies faster than Merrythought can hand out detentions since the moment you've arrived. You may have everyone else fooled, but you can't pull the wool over my eyes. I know you're lying about everything!"

Hermione stuck her chin out stubbornly. "I'm not lying," she said, but her defense sounded weak. "I told you – Harry and I came here to escape the war! We needed a place to stay!" She stopped, having been hit by a curse that caused large red blisters to form on her arms, and retaliated with a well-aimed jelly-legs jinx that sent Riddle stumbling to his knees. "And anyway," she continued, "you're one to talk."

_"Me?"_ he said incredulously. "_I'm_ one to talk? I – Head Boy, recipient the prestigious Special Services to the School award – have not stepped a _single toe_ out of line since my arrival at this school –"

"Oh _right_. And I'm sure that Special Services to the School award was earned _honestly._ Hagrid _certainly_ deserved to be expelled from school." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You're such a _model_ student, Riddle."

Riddle's expression, beneath the hideous purple boils, was murderous. "Oh, so you've befriended the oaf now, too?" He shot another jet of light in Hermione's direction, and she dived away just in time. The two continued running down the corridor, breathing heavily and misfiring curses at one another in the darkness.

"He's another one!" Riddle panted as he tried to keep up with Hermione. "Spinning stories, causing trouble… _oomph!"_ He doubled over as the force of a spell punched him in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. _"Le- levicorpus!"_ he gasped.

Hermione shrieked as she felt her ankles lift above her head, suspending her body upside down in mid-air. She couldn't see Riddle through the curtain of hair that had fallen in front of her face, but she could hear his footsteps as he circled her on the ground. Taking a guess at his position, she blindly aimed a curse, and heard a loud crash. There was a flash of white light, and the sound of Riddle howling from the ground. What was going on? A clanging echoed throughout the corridor, drowning out the sound of Riddle saying something. It sounded as though Hermione's spell, having missed Riddle, collided with a suit of armor and toppled it over. There was another crash as he presumably kicked the armor aside, and Hermione struggled fiercely in the air, trying to get down again. Riddle started to shout an incantation, but she cast another Shield Charm before it could do any damage.

Having been suspended upside down for several minutes now, Hermione felt the blood rushing to her head. It was making her dizzy and lightheaded, and she couldn't see where Riddle was…. There was a moment of terror when she was sure that Riddle was going to curse her again – but the flash of light seemed to miss her, and Hermione took that opportunity to cast a Bat-Bogey hex in Riddle's general direction. She could hear the flap of the descending bogey and Riddle's disgusted cry, so she knew that she had hit her target.

He wasn't completely preoccupied, though, because a moment later Hermione heard a crack, and there at her feet she felt something smooth and muscular begin twisting around her legs. Horrified, she realized that it was a snake, and she struggled harder than ever to free herself from the enchantment.

_"Liberacorpus! Finite Incantatem!"_

But it was no use – nothing would release the hold on her ankles or stop the snake from advancing down her body. And it was moving fast, too, heading for her neck. It was going to strangle her soon if it wasn't stopped….

"Riddle!" she shrieked. "Stop it! Please! Make it go away!"

He didn't answer; all she could hear were the sounds of the bat-bogeys whacking him in the head, and Riddle unsuccessfully trying to curse them away.

As the snake approached her neck she reached down and tried to pry the animal away with her fingers. The snake was hard as a rock, though, and as much as she tried, she could not persuade it to move away.

And then, just when she thought all hope was lost, Hermione heard another voice. There was a gasp, and a woman's voice cried out, "Riddle! Wilkins!" Suddenly, the snake was gone and Hermione fell heavily to the ground. She lay stiff on her back for a moment before forcing herself into a sitting position.

Professors Merrythought and Slughorn were standing in the entrance to the corridor, looking distraught and shell-shocked. They were both wearing their nightclothes and had their lit wands raised high over their heads. As they hurried over, Hermione stole a glance at Riddle; the bat-bogey had vanished, but he was plastered from head to toe in what looked like sticky, grey glue. His face was still covered in shiny blisters and bloody scratches from the birds, and his hair and clothes were sufficiently disheveled. He glared at her and she turned away.

"What in the world is going on?" Merrythought shouted. Her eyes were wild as she surveyed each student. Hermione looked down at herself and saw that she was in no better condition than Riddle – her exposed hands and arms were all covered in burns and blisters.

When Slughorn saw what had happened he stopped in his tracks and gaped open-mouthed at the two. "Tom," he said incredulously. "What in Merlin's name just happened?"

Riddle opened his mouth to speak, but Merrythought interrupted.

"Not here," she snapped. "The corridors are too dangerous right now – we're going up to the Headmaster's office." She glowered at them both. "If _this _is why you didn't respond to the Patronus, Dippet is going to have your heads."

"The Patronus?" Hermione asked, just as Riddle said, "What Patronus?"

Slughorn let out a nervous laugh and Merrythought pursed her lips. "The Patronus," she said waspishly, "that told you to get down to the grounds. Grindelwald's men infiltrated the school tonight. Another student almost died. Now _let's go_ before we get into anymore trouble up here."


End file.
